


Hidin' In a Bed of Sunflowers (I'm Still Comin' Down)

by Druid_Moon



Series: Jukebox Serenades [1]
Category: Leverage, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Casual discussions of grifting, Crossover, Darcy-centric, F/M, Rated for swearing, SHIP DARCY WITH ALL THE THINGS, Smut, Why do I do this to myself, meet cute kind of?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-03 18:40:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5302568
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Druid_Moon/pseuds/Druid_Moon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy Lewis was finally putting herself first, and it was a heady thing.</p><p>Or</p><p>A girl meets a gallowglass (and accidentally sort of takes over his life).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So I recently started Leverage and fell in love with Eliot. Like, holy crap, I can't believe how fast I'm in fangirl mode with both the character and the actor.
> 
> And because I love Darcy, I threw her in there too, because there's just not enough Darcy/Eliot in the world. Or long enough Darcy/Eliot to satisfy my cravings for long fics, because long crackish crossovers have become my new addiction.
> 
> I'm slightly miffed though, I had this whole thing planned out and then Eliot just sort of strolled in and RUINED ALL OF MY PLANS.
> 
> Thanks Eliot.
> 
> And because I'm becoming the ultimate fandom trash, have a playlist featuring Christian Kane, because he has officially ruined my life.
> 
> Sunflowers- Pure thoughts, adoration, dedication, dedicated love, haughtiness.  
> Daisies- Innocence, purity, loyal love.  
> Three guesses as to who is which. ;)

 

 

  
[](http://tinypic.com?ref=2ivcgh3)

[Sunflower Girl](http://8tracks.com/druidmoon/sunflower-girl?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) from [druidmoon](http://8tracks.com/druidmoon?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button) on [8tracks Radio](http://8tracks.com?utm_medium=referral&utm_content=mix-page&utm_campaign=embed_button).

 

 

When Thor came back from Asgard, there was something different about him. He seemed more serious, grave and silent when he was once loud and boisterous.

He whispered to Jane, conversations Darcy wasn't privy to (even employing the Best Assistant-Intern Ever tactics) and it made her uneasy. They'd both trusted her before, and this meant it was either something so serious and shattering, or something so intense and threatening that she couldn't be told for her own safety-

And that freaked her out more than anything.

-o-

She turned in her resignation on a sunny Thursday afternoon, gently explaining to Jane that she didn't really belong in her Scientist Brigade, that she was barely more than a paper pusher, and while the new funding was nice, it was time she got serious about her education and actually finished her degree. Whether or not Jane actually believed her, Darcy would never know, because as soon as she handed in her keys and her ID badge, she was out the door and in a beat up Jeep with her desk calender and potted plant and a few pencils rattling in a box beside her. Everything else, everything important, was held close in her purse, tucked between the seats with the strap twisted around the emergency break.

She knew it was risky, knew that with her identity and information out on the Web from the SHIELDRA file dump, she was just right for picking off and using for bait, but she just couldn't care anymore.

She'd spent the last few years living off pennies and scraping together an existence that was always third or fourth on the priority list, so to finally shed it all and just drive away was... freeing.

Darcy Lewis was finally putting herself first, and it was a heady thing.

-o-

She cut her hair in the first gas station bathroom, switching her bulky thrift-store sweater and jeans for a skater dress and tights, with a studded denim vest she found in the clearance section at Target. She kept her glasses locked in the car, brought in a headband that was less frumpy knit and more sleek millennial. She kept her old cracked Docs on, but snipped and cut her hair until she was satisfied- the heavy curls became rough and tumble bangs and clinging layers, and there was something different, something older, in her face.

No more red lipstick, she mourned, at least for a while, but she always kinda liked the idea of dark electric pink, and why should she have to maintain lab levels of acceptable now?

It was a new girl who left the bathroom that day, new and light and singing along to an old 90s song without a care.

Darcy liked that girl.

-o-

Her daddy had left her a bank account with the instructions to never touch it, not ever, unless she had nothing else left and her world had been destroyed.

She figured this counted.

She used it to buy her Jeep, secondhand and ancient from '89, still young enough to run but old enough that she could do maintenance herself when required (thank god her daddy had insisted, bless his mechanic's heart). She named it Tracy and drove her across the country, sleeping under the stars with her Taser clutched close. She dumped her old phone, bought a easy burner with cash from another gas station. She transferred all the important files from her laptop to a portable drive- pictures, music, school papers- and before wiping her old machine clean.

She also used a rare earth magnet before she drove over it in a abandoned parking lot.

Just to be sure.

Slowly, surely, Darcy rebuilt herself from the ashes of who she had once been. She cycled through small towns, hitting thrift stores and exchanging her wardrobe out for new pieces, solid colors or styles old Darcy would have never chosen, but new Darcy happened to really like. Crop tops, floaty skirts and dresses with wide waist belts, cowboy boots and sandals. Her one concession to old Darcy was exchanging her most notable- and coincidentally, most loved- sweaters for ones in solid colors or with pretty designs. She kept it all in a jumble in her backseat, clothes and shoes and blankets, the dirty stuff sitting in plastic bags until she could hit a laundromat and give it a wash.

Her mama would be so proud.

She never stayed long, preferring to work under the table for a few days at a time. She waitressed her way through the Northeast, bartended her way through the Carolinas, and generally drifted her way through. She pulled on all the fuzzy memories of her mama and late nights studying locks, examples of how to charm policemen and grandmothers alike. She listened to too much country music as she slung beers and sang along to jukeboxes in dark bars, ate too much diner food as she wiped counters and helped store owners best she could.

Darcy was her mama's girl, but she was also her daddy's, and she made a point to never steal. She batted her eyes and bantered her words to get the most pay for her day's work, sure, but she never lifted cash from the register and never shorted the owner's. Times were tough, they didn't need her light fingers making it worse for them.

Eventually, after she got tired of working in truck stops and sleeping in Tracy's front seat, she made her way back up to New York. She wasn't out of money, far from it, but her heart was restless and pulling her back, back to a place to roost and call home with plants and doilies and maybe a Netflix account and steady wifi (although she was pretty impressed she managed so long without).

She bought a bouquet of daises and sunflowers, bright and sunny yellow, with Tracy's AC cranked up high as she navigated the traffic to Mount Albion. It had been a few years, but he'd understand.

After all, she was her Daddy's girl.

-o-

“So, yeah, that's what's happened,” Darcy finished, letting out a breath as she knelt in front of the headstone. “It's been a few crazy years, Daddy, I'm sorry I couldn't tell you- things just got crazy after you got sick, and I couldn't make it back, and I'm so sorry, Daddy, I'm so sorry.”

She took a deep shuddering breath, eyes tracing the name and dates on the stone in front of her. “I still haven't seen her, I'm not sure how to even contact her, and I've been channeling her and her tricks, just to survive. I didn't steal,” she hurried to add, “just maybe played up how desperate I was and how I needed to get home. It worked for a time, but then I felt like I had to come back, had to talk to you and Aunt Alison and Gramps and Grammy, and now that I'm here...”

She trailed off, shaking her head and smiling at the stone. “Now that I'm here, I think I want to stay. For good. I'm not sure what I'll do, what I _can_ do, but I just couldn't stay with the crazy and the gods and the heroes anymore. It was never me, it was never right, and I burned all my bridges so good there's no going back. Not like Culver would take me, anyway, not with the 'increased security' risk. Jesus. Never thought I'd get on the radar like _this,_ huh Daddy?”

She said her goodbyes then, made a promise to come visit him again when she had a job and a place to stay, and made her way back to the gate and Tracy. It wasn't much, but it was a start, she thought, finally being able to talk to her dad again, even if it wasn't really _him._ Still, it did her good to do it, to finally say it all out loud, and she felt the lightest she ever had.

There was a diner advertising “Out Of This World Pie”, and since Darcy felt like she was a great judge on what was and wasn't _out of this world_ , she went in. The bell jangled over the door as she entered, and the elderly waitress gave her a nod and a smile as she refilled a customer's coffee.

“Take a seat now, I'll be with you in a jiffy!” she called out, her name tag reading “Doris” in sparkling pink stickers. Darcy shot her a grin, sliding into a seat at the back of the restaurant. Clear sight lines to the front door and to the back, her mama whispered from the back of her memories, and Darcy snorted into her hand as she thought about Maybelle Lewis getting arrested in a small diner, a lot like this one, all those years ago for a con gone south.

 _Fat load of good your rules did you then, huh mama?_ she thought, the bitterness faded to a dull ache. _Got you twenty years, a divorce and a baby girl who barely knows your face._

“Hey there honey, my name's Doris, what can I get you?” Doris was younger than Darcy expected, but still in her late sixties, a burnished gold band on her left hand and a matching locket around her neck. Bright pink lipstick, evenly applied eyeliner and mascara, even though her hands shook around her pencil.

Darcy grinned up at her, bright and happy. “A piece of that space-tastic pie, coffee with all the cream, and change for the jukebox if you can?” she asked, sliding a five out of her wallet. “I like your lipstick, by the way. It's my favorite kind of pink.” she added with a sly smirk, and Doris smirked back.

“It's called Space Princess, and coming right up!” Doris swished away, and Darcy grabbed a abandoned copy of the day's paper from a nearby table.

“Time to get real, Darcy girl,” she muttered, flipping to the Classifieds. “Real home, real job, real real real.”

“Ain't that the life, honey,” Doris clucked as she set her order down on the table. “You new in town?”

“Yeah, just blew in,” Darcy laughed, letting a bit of her sadness leak through. “Figured it was time to come home, even if there's not a home, you know?”

“I know, believe me. Mind if I sit?”

“Doris,” Darcy smiled, slow and wide, “not only would I be delighted if you sit, I think this is the beginning of something beautiful.”

-o-

By the time her plate's empty and her coffee's long since needed a refill, Darcy's got a meeting with the diner owner tomorrow- “Frank's a dick, but he's a sucker for pretty girls in need,” Doris cackled- and the address of a hotel to spend the night. Doris hooked her up with some extra pie, on the house, so Darcy picked all of the waitress's favorite songs on the juke to pay her back (with the noticeable exception of one country song that she just can't get enough of. She heard it down in Texas, some one-hit singer that got caught up in some sort of scandal with a crooked recording exec and never made another song) that she sang along with, heart and soul pouring into the lyrics, and Doris smiles.

She and Doris talk some more, until the after-club rush starts to hit and Darcy clears out. The night's still young, but Darcy's decidedly feeling every year she's lived, and more she hasn't. She takes Tracy up to the hotel and parked her in the overnight garage- “Fifty bucks in parking, are you _serious_ ,”- but the room is clean, the shower hot and the bed soft, and that's all she can ask for these days.

The ancient coffeemaker sputtered and groaned, but finally spat out enough hot water for a cup of tea. Darcy, phone already on the charger, brought up her music library- the little bit she kept at hand, anyway- and hit 'play'.

 _Shame about that guy_ , she drowsily thought, _he had such a good voice_.

-o-

Frank took one look at Darcy and hired her on the spot. Her first shift is the Friday dinner rush, he doesn't care about her lipstick, but no metal in the face, please. It took about an hour to fill out the paperwork, but no one recognized her face or her name, and there's a release of pressure in her chest she wasn't even aware she was carrying.

It's a good day.

There's no uniform, other than an apron and a nametag, which Darcy is allowed to decorate however she wants. Old Darcy would have used dinosaurs and spaceships, just to keep with the diner's theme, but new Darcy doesn't. New Darcy is made of flowers and sunshine and all the things she always wanted but never had.

At the start of her shift, there's a giant sunflower sewn onto her apron skirt and her tag is covered with little daises and roses, because no one has sunflower stickers in NYC outside of overpriced craft stores she doesn't want to drive to. She's pulled her hair into a ponytail, but the bangs escape to frame her face. Doris complimented her on it at first, said she looked less like a street urchin, but there's fondness underneath the snark and it makes Darcy beam.

Doris is gruff but kind, but Darcy has waited enough tables and slung enough beers (and a few punches, when a few of the guys wouldn't take no for an answer) to handle a diner crowd. She rakes in the tips, and by the end of her shift she's exhausted in the best kind of way.

-o-

Her least favorite table of the night was a couple, a tall thin black man with an easy attitude and a shorter blonde woman with sharp eyes. They walked in, deep in discussion, and Darcy noticed right away how their gazes flicked around the diner with practiced ease. She seated them in the back booth, close enough to the exit and the kitchen, and they both slide into the side facing the open diner.

She'd have to be a fool not to notice a kindred spirit when she sees one, after all.

Her mama would tan her hide if she didn't.

“What's good here?” the man asked, lazily studying the menu, and Darcy snorted. “What?”

“Besides the _cosmic_ pie? I'll be honest with you, it's all full of salt and butter and sugar and should probably be condemned for how bad it is for your heart,” she replied, voice light and easy. “I'm Darcy, by the way, I'll be your waitress for however long you wanna linger,” _and pretend you're not hiding_ , her mama is at the forefront of her memories again, but Darcy can't really disagree with her ghost at the moment.

“Orange soda, if you have it,” he replied, and the woman didn't even give the menu a look, just handed it back with an order for breakfast cereal.

“Okay, but like, what kind? Sugary? Healthy? A little of column A, column B?” Darcy doesn't blink an eye at the request, but the woman does.

“Sugary, if you can.” she finally replied, and Darcy nodded as she scribbled on her notepad. “No milk.”

“Done! I'll be back with that in a jiffy!” she called over her shoulder, already on her way back to the kitchen herself. It's not that their order is all that difficult, or all that strange; but it's a dry good and a drink, so to send it back to the kitchen would honestly be an insult and a waste of everyone's time.

“One orange soda, one water, both still in the bottles, and two mini boxes of Frosted Flakes, still in the wrappers.” She arranged the meal on her serving tray, displaying it to the couple with a flourish and a wink. “Anything else I can do for you?”

“No, we're good, thanks,” the man smiled as he cracked open his soda. “You're good at this, you know. Putting people at ease.”

Darcy shrugged as nonchalantly as she could, but her heart hammered in her chest. _Of course they would recognize a grift when they see one_ , she thinks, but she doesn't say anything about that. “My mama taught me,” she said instead, and the woman gave her a sharp smile, quick and vicious enough to cut steel.

“Teach you anything else?” she asked conversationally, but Darcy heard the blade hidden in the words.

“Enough to know when to talk and when to hide,” her tone was even enough, but Darcy's heart was unsteady and rabbit-fast. “Enough to see when others don't want to be bothered, enough to know what to do when that happens.”

“You're quick,” the woman's compliments are odd, but this whole thing was odd. “You're insightful, and you're pretty. Do you want a job?”

Darcy laughed then, loud and boisterous and just shy of a cackle, which drew the attention of half the diner, much to the annoyance of her current table. “Oh honey, that's a good one!” she drawled, and the rest of the diner stopped paying so much attention.

“So that's a no, then,” the woman was decisive, firm, and Darcy could respect that.

She also respected her own life.

“I just got out of something over my head,” Darcy didn't like to use this tone of voice, low and harsh, but it got her point across better than anything. “No offense, but you're like, leagues above my league, and I don't want to get into something just as bad as Ja- as what I got out of. So do me a favor- keep my secret, and I'll keep all the ones you want of me, as long as it doesn't mean my end.”

“Deal.” the man spoke this time, his gaze steady and unwavering, and it was an unsettling realization that she got _played_ , they were _testing_ her, goddammit, _how did she not see it_ -

“And if there's anything we can do for you, Darcy, just let us know,” the woman slipped the boxes of cereal into her coat pockets as she stood, the water held loosely in her hands.

_Got any apartments for cheap?_

“Give us a moment to run a search, we'll find something.” the man answered with another lazy smile, and Darcy was terrified he can read minds because _she didn't say that_ -

Except she apparently did, and she clapped her hand over her mouth, mortified her question even slipped out.

“I like you,” the woman nodded once, before she turned to face her companion. “Pay the girl. It's time we left.”

“But-”

The guy just winked as he followed his friend out of the diner, and Darcy found a $20 with a card tucked underneath.

_**Leverage, Inc.** _

-o-

Hardison and Parker.

They told her their names the next time they came in, a daytime shift that's seen almost no tips, but thankfully Frank believed in paying a living wage to all his employees, so it was still technically a win.

It was terrifying as shit when they came in, though, because apparently they've decided to adopt her as some sort of strange pet.

“You found me an apartment,” Darcy asked, eyebrow raised and voice skeptical, but Hardison merely laughed and wiggled his fingers at her.

“Age of the Geek, baby,” he replied, and Parker rolled her eyes next to him. “Age of the Geek.”

“Riiiiight.” Darcy drawled again, “And you're helping me.... why, exactly?”

“You're like us, but you're not. It's... refreshing.” Parker replied, head tilted slightly to the side. “You remind us of someone we used to know. He's gone now, but I like to think he approve of you.”

“I'm sorry,” Darcy bit her lip, “How did he...”

“Married his soulmate, the big idiot.” Parker smiled happily. “They had a lovely wedding. Gave us their shares in the company as a present. Very nice.”

“That's... not how weddings work.”

“It's how Nate's did,” Parker shrugged up at her. “Who are we to argue with a groom on his wedding day?”

“Right,” Darcy shook her head in disbelief. “So you're helping me because I remind you of your lost married friend, who may or may not have a misunderstanding of the laws of economics and how weddings work, and this is a good thing?”

“Yep.”

“Pretty much.”

“Well, shit,” Darcy tilted her head in consideration. “Whaddya got?”

-o-

“How in the hell can you give me an apartment bigger than a closet for $450 a month in _Brooklyn_?” she screeched. “Shit, how can you get me a _shoebox_ for $450 a month in Brooklyn?”

“It helps when you know the owner.”

“Who the hell is the owner, Donald Trump?!” Darcy yelped.

“A friend.”

“A friend in the same way Nate-the-Not-Dead-Yet is, or a friend in the way of Don Corleone?” Darcy snapped. “Because I am not about to get into Mafia business! I can't get into mafia business!”

“No Mafia business, I promise,” Hardison held up his hands. “Look, our friend owns this place, it came his way through perfectly legal business dealings, I can show you the paperwork for it, but he's been having issues finding tenants who fit his standards, and frankly I think he'd really like you.”

“Well where is he? Because somehow I think he'd protest leasin' it to a college dropout who waitresses to make a livin'!” she huffed, her slight drawl becoming more pronounced with stress. “'Specially for so little! That can't even cover the taxes!”

“It does when he charges the other two tenants enough to make the difference,” Parker's grin is predatory, and Hardison rolled his eyes at the look on her face. This was going to go bad in a second if he didn't jump in.

Feet-first then.

“Damn, Darcy, girl, would you please calm down? Jesus,” Hardison shook his head. “He lives in one of the apartments, he rents out two at slightly higher than average prices due to the neighborhood, and he keeps the last one for those who are down on their luck. You know how expensive car insurance is here in NYC, let alone parking fees? He's been down on his luck once before, he knows how it is, and he likes to help people when he can. So. Yes or no? I've already run your background-”

“ _What_ _?!”_

Both Parker and Hardison stared at her in surprise. “You honestly don't think we didn't run a check on you when we got home that first night?” Parker said slowly. “Like, you think we just let you in without it?”

“We found the files. And I did my best to help you with that,” Hardison shrugged as Darcy gaped at him. “Hey, don't look at me like that. I wouldn't wish for anyone to be on that info dump. Can you imagine how many covers and ops got blown by that? And those were agents, trained agents. I can't imagine how all the civilians thrown into the mess were handling it.”

“Some were okay, some weren't.” Darcy cut in, her voice harsh. “I left. I couldn't do it anymore, couldn't live under constant guard. I saw the files, I saw how SHIELD noted I was pretty much worthless and not a viable way to get to Jane. It's the only reason I was able to get out of there. They've got so much more, so much bigger things, to go after. One girl ain't gonna catch their eye, and I'm good enough that I could probably sense it in the wind before it came to that.”

“Sense it in the wind, huh?” Hardison laughed, but Darcy shook her head at him. “You're serious?”

“Call it a gut feeling, call it experience, whatever,” she shrugged. “It's one and the same to me. You honestly tell me you never follow that feeling when it comes calling?”

“What's your gut wind telling you now?” Parker cut in, tone blunt. She studied Darcy like a particularly tricky puzzle, and she didn't like it.

Darcy sighed. “It's telling me to trust you maniacs, and hope your missing friend is very _understanding_ when his bottom line suffers.”

“Trust me,” Parker snickered, “he'll be _more_ than understanding.”

-o-

Darcy was completely moved in by the end of the month, and she still couldn't believe it. She dipped into the account again, just enough to buy a new mattress (heavenly soft and supportive, with a mound of pillows both soft and hard for maximum comfort) and bed set. Everything else- kitchenware, pots, furniture, tv- she bought from thrift stores or buy-swap sites. Her office plant had miraculously survived her vagabond life these past months, and she made it a hanging basket out of rope and a Pinterest tutorial.

It was an amazing home, with original wood work and flooring but new electrical and heat- and best of all, free wifi and cable- although that may have been because Hardison was a bro and literally hooked up her cables and router for her.

She still wasn't sure if it's completely above board.

She still wasn't sure if she cared.

The best part of this place, though, wasn't the charm or the price or the location. It was the roof access; stairs from each apartment lead to an open green space, complete with pre-built garden beds. She immediately filled hers with herbs for cooking, with lavender planted along the side.

“For luck,” she told Parker when she asked, and the blonde could only nod in respect.

Luck may not be everything, but it was something to folks like them.

Folks like _her_.

-o-

Working in a diner wasn't conducive to a steady sleeping schedule, so Darcy started creeping up to her section of the green space at night when she couldn't sleep. There aren't any stars, too much light pollution, but she was relatively alone in the quiet and the green. She managed to convince Hardison to install a small docking station for her phone a while back, and on the nights worse than others, her phone got plugged in and she got lost in soft guitars and dreams of what could have been. It wasn't much, but it was secret and it was _hers,_ and that's what mattered.

And then one night, when she was exhausted beyond all measure and just wanted a moment to herself, she made it up to the roof to find it occupied.

She couldn't see who it is, but there was a soft guitar and a softer voice crooning along on the far side of the roof- the owner's side- and it was just so haunting and perfect for her mood that she didn't complain. She just listened, and eventually when he took a break- because that voice was definitely a man's- she didn't wait.

She sang back.

She chose her favorite Dolly song, about a broken hearted-woman telling her woes to all that will listen- not an auspicious choice, she admitted, but somehow, in this moment, it fits- and when she finished the first verse, his guitar started up again, soft and lilting from the dark.

They took turns throughout the night, her and this mystery man, traded on and off on singing and listening. He didn't play for a few of her turns, mainly the huskier blues songs and a few gospel tunes she had to dig out of her long-ago memories, but she was delighted when he played the Lee Hazelwood to her Nancy Sinatra.

Summer Wine was always one of her favorites.

She fell asleep in her chair, wrapped in a blanket and his voice, and only woke up on time from the sunrise in her eyes. She stumbled her way downstairs, a shower and breakfast on her mind before all else, except there was a niggling bit of something in the back of her head, and she didn't know what it is.

Later that night, she was disappointed to find her mystery musician wasn't there again. She can understand his position- she did sort of invade his solitude, even if he did sing and play along with her.

It was a lovely thing, and even if it was never going to happen again, she wanted him to know that.

-o-

She slipped the little letter, neatly folded and sealed in an envelope, under the door leading downstairs to the owner's apartment before she left for work the next day. “To my mystery man” was scrawled on the front, with a little musical note in the corner. Short and to the point, she apologized for intruding and let him know he could bar her door if he didn't want her up there again.

She heard what he was singing, and what he wasn't.

Didn't take a genius to know when someone was running.

-o-

She didn't expect a response, but there was a letter waiting on her rooftop steps when she got home. “To my mystery songbird” was written on the front, with a drawing of a little bird in the corner.

She smiled a bit at the unexpected sweetness of it, sinking down on the steps to read what he'd written.

He wasn't disappointed she had intervened, just surprised. The other tenants didn't go onto the roof much, but he wasn't mad. She was welcome to the roof at any time, and hopefully they'd meet face to face before too long.

He liked her singing, after all.

He signed it with his name, Eliot, the first letter large and clear and the others barely legible. It brought a smile to her face, and she folded it back into the envelope and placed it in her purse.

Looks like she had a new hobby.

-o-

A few hours after getting home, Darcy was back at work to cover for Doris so she could take her husband to the hospital. “Idiot tripped on the stairs and hurt his arm,” Doris grumbled into the phone, worry thick in her voice. “You're a lifesaver, doll.”

She didn't mind so much, except she hadn't had time to stop at a kiosk in Chinatown for cute stationary to write back to Eliot with.

Any man with that kind of pain in his voice deserved something sweet, she thought.

If she was thinking she could be a bit of that sweetness, well, that was her business.

It was late when she got back home, too late for her to go anywhere but to bed, but she forced herself to write a reply out to Eliot anyway. It was borderline flirtatious, but easily waved off as sleep deprived if he took offense, so she wasn't too concerned.

She was out of envelopes, though, so hopefully just folding it would do.

-o-

They were snickering.

Parker and Hardison were snickering over a piece of folded paper in the corner of the room, and he hated it when they did their adorable weird genius couple thing.

Well, kinda.

He was mostly just jealous they were so in sync.

But right now? Now he was irritated.

“What are you reading?” Eliot growled, annoyance thick in his voice. “We don't have any clients today, why are you cackling like old women?”

“Juuuuust a little something Parker picked up on the street somewhere, nothing serious.” Hardison attempted to clear his throat, but he was still giggling too much to be successful.

“Parker-”

“Eliot,” she replied, eyes focused on the paper in front of her. “You should meet Darcy. Officially, I mean. You'll like her. More than you already do, obviously, but-”

“I haven't even spoken to the girl, let alone-”

“But this letter implies that you have,” Parker interjected, and Eliot blanched.

Shit.

Darcy's note.

Darcy's _new_ note, from the look of the paper.

“ _Parker._ ” he stalked to her chair with the intent to grab the letter, but the thief slipped out of his grasp at the last minute and started to read out loud.

 _Lord, srike me down_ , he thought as he chased Parker through the office.

“'Eliot,

Thank you for being so sweet, I really appreciate it! I'm still sorry I intruded, but a little less so now. Hopefully we'll meet soon, my schedule's pretty-” Parker dodged his outstretched arm and a potted plant in a weird twisting move vaguely reminiscent of a cat falling from a table, before sliding between filing cabinets and somehow _coming up behind him_.

These kids, really.

“Whoo, that was a doozy! Anyway!

'My schedule's pretty crazy right now so I'm not sure when I'll be home, but I'd like to put a face to the voice. If you're as half as pretty as you sing, I'll be the luckiest girl in the neighborhood.

I hope you'll feel the same about me.' Aww, she drew a little bird with a heart! What does that mean?” Parker tilted her head to study the drawing, and Eliot successfully snatched the paper away.

“It means I may have been on the roof with my guitar, she was there too and just sort of... sang along.” Eliot tried to play it off like it was nothing, but Parker's expression was too gleeful and Hardison's too resigned for him to have succeeded.

“Ooooh, did you serenade her? Was there serenading?” Parker asked, eyes full of delight, and Eliot groaned. “Serenading was good, you liked Kaylin and the serenading you did there!”

“Aaaand now we're going, Eliot, nice seeing you, glad you're back, please don't kill us.” Hardison grabbed Parker's arm and steered her out of the office, muttering at her the entire time.

“And don't kiss Darcy until we can see it!” Parker shouted back at him, and Eliot groaned again.

These kids, _seriously._

-o-

She managed to find a couple of different styles of stationary at a mart near the brownstone, including one with sunflowers, so naturally she bought them completely _out._

It did have the unseen effect of connecting Eliot to sunflowers in her head now, but she didn't think it was such a bad thing. Maybe he'd connect her to sunflowers too, and then think of her when he saw them-

And she was already down the “extremely clingy girlfriend” tunnel without actually _being_ his girlfriend. Or hearing him talk. Or seeing his face.

God, she had it bad.

She really was her mama's girl sometimes.

There wasn't a letter on her steps, so she pushed open the door and enjoyed the last few hours of sunlight. If she had her new stationary with her, and maybe penned a letter suggesting a date and time to meet, that was just providence.

Providence and hope.

Still, she signed and sealed the envelope with a sunflower sticker and slid it under the door, same as before, before she made her way back downstairs. She had a date with her tub, her music, and a new bath salt blend that was supposed to smell like the starry skies she left so far behind her.

-o-

Eliot paused on the front steps of his building, surprised to hear the faint sounds of a familiar song playing close by.

 _His_ song.

There was a faint hint of sandalwood on the air too, light and breezy enough he almost missed it. Sandalwood and jasmine flowers, sweet and light and feminine. There was window open in Darcy's apartment- her bathroom, his brain helpfully supplied- and he was pretty sure the music and scents were coming from there.

He did not need to think of Darcy Lewis in her tub, listening to him sing.

Fuck.

_He was thinking about it._

He'd seen her picture when he read her file before she moved in. She was pretty, but the file wasn't- under ordinary _earthbound_ circumstances, she was the kind of person Leverage would have helped. Under Hydra circumstances... there wasn't much anyone could do, although apparently the Avengers were trying.

Load of good that was doing, if Darcy was waiting tables in a Brooklyn diner to make ends meet.

He groaned and rubbed at his eyes; he did not need this right now. They were leaving for an op in less than seven hours, he still had to pack, he didn't have all the specs yet, and he was lusting over his still yet-unmet tenant.

If there was a special hell for people like, him, well.

He was probably already there.

-o-

The cheerful little envelope was resting on the top step, rich yellow and white against the gloom of the staircase. No drawing on the envelope this time, but the sticker on the back was cute, he thought.

“ _Eliot,_

_I'm not sure if you got my last letter or not, but just in case you didn't, I'd love to meet you face to face, finally put a picture to that unfairly gorgeous voice. How does Friday at three sound? You bring your guitar, I'll make coffee, and we can finally officially meet?_

_P.S. - I'm a bit of a flirt, so if I get to be too much, just let me know and I'll ease up, promise.”_

He smiled at the drawing at the bottom of the page, a poorly-drawn guitar peeking out from the flowered border. A little bird perched on the tip of the head, notes floating around its head, and it was adorable and heartbreaking because he was going to be in Wisconsin for the next week, and the only way he had of contacting her was through letters they slipped under each other's doors like teenagers flirting in high school.

Yeah, this wasn't going to work.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy talks and cares a bit too much, and Eliot flirts and might not care enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the encouragement! This is for you. 
> 
> Completely un-beta'd, so mistakes are my own. I tried to weed them all out, but it's almost 1 am here and I am EXHAUSTED so I'm sorry if I missed any.

Darcy found his note the same time she discovered one of the other tenants was having a rooftop party. Complete with a DJ and a bartender.

A bartender who apparently thought her herb garden was free game and completely _decimated_ it for cocktails.

“Are you _serious_ right now?” she demanded, hands on her hips as she stared at the culprit. “What made you think it was okay to just go at it? It's not even in the way of the party, you had to _look_ for it!”

The bartender had the grace to look a little sheepish as Darcy ranted at him. “I'm sorry, Alex said it was okay-”

“I wouldn't have minded if you had only taken a little. This, this is a massacre!” Darcy waved her hands at the plot, full of broken twigs and stripped stems. “Have you even harvested herbs before? You _clip_ them, not break the stems! What the fuck, dude? You didn't even leave all that much left for me, and you even went after my lavender? My _lavender_?! What the fuck, do you know how expensive this is going to be to replace?”

The host came up at that point, clearly sensing a fight, only to pause when she saw it was Darcy. “Oh, it's you.”

“What does that mean, it's me?” Darcy snapped. “Of course it's me! I come up to get stuff for my dinner, but my garden is trashed, there's liquor in my speaker dock, and _you're_ pissed at _me?”_

“It's you, as in the freeloader that's living off me and Dr. Lorris,” her neighbor spat back. “You're a fucking waitress, how are you even affording utilities, let alone rent? You get to live here because we're paying extra- I know, because I checked the rates.”

“And that's my fault how, exactly?” Darcy was so _done_ with today. “I got my apartment because my friends recommended me to the owner, said he kept it specifically for people down on their luck. So if anything, blame him, and keep your fucking hands off my garden!”

She stormed away, closing the door behind with with a very satisfying slam. Something crinkled under her foot; she looked down to see a folded piece of paper she'd missed on her way up.

_Eliot._

She made her way to her favorite chair and plopped down into the cushions. The note wasn't particularly long, mostly him apologizing for not being able to make Friday as he was out of town.

 _Shame_ , she thought, reading the rest of his note. _It would have been nice-_

He included his phone number at the bottom of the page with the suggesting of texting instead of letter-writing, and Darcy felt her brain come to a screeching halt.

He gave her his phone number.

Sweet baby Jesus.

_He gave her his phone number._

She was not prepared for this. She was _so_ not prepared for this. Vaguely flirtatious letters were one thing, singing to each other on the rooftops was just so rom-com it wasn't even possible to be serious, but phone numbers?

That way lead to texting which lead to calls and FaceTime and _she was so not prepared for this_.

She stared at the numbers in his messy scrawl, studied how he slashed through the stem of his sevens but not his nines or his fours. She traced the way his zeros looped but his threes were just so loose and messy.

She sighed.

She was over her head. _Again._

-o-

One of the good things about not having Sophie along anymore, Eliot reflected, was that they didn't have to stay in high-end hotels while on the job. He missed her, sure, same as Nate, but there were certain things he didn't. Like her frequent and loud demands for opulence, bordering on decadence, when they were supposed to be laying low for an op.

Their chosen hotel was a step above the average vacation spot. No 24-7 service or Egyptian cotton sheets, but there weren't bedbugs or roaches, the beds were comfortable, and the shower was tall enough he could stand under the shower head comfortably.

Right now, fresh off the op (some lawyer had cheated a girl out of her grandma's will), all Eliot wanted to do was just lay back and enjoy a few moments of peace.

Which is precisely when his phone vibrated twice on the nightstand.

He rolled to his side to grab it. 'New Messages', the screen read.

 

_Hi, I think you told me to text?_

_Um, this is Darcy btw._

 

He grinned. His little songbird had found his note after all.

 

_I did. Glad you found my letter. Was worried you'd think I was standing you up._

 

_You're assuming I wouldn't duck out from nerves either._

 

 _You nervous about meeting me?_ He smirked as he hit 'send'. Looks like he was sticking with the high school flirting after all, digital age or not.

 

Back in New York, Darcy blew out a breath. Yeah, she was fucking nervous and his light flirting wasn't helping. She tucked her feet under her duvet, forcing out another breath as she typed a reply. _Kinda? All I know about you is you're friends with P and H and you have a soft spot for down on their luck waitresses._

 

_Not just waitresses, but yeah, I've been there. I didn't get help then, but I can help now._

 

_Well, my bank account thanks you. So does Tracy._

 

 _Tracy?_ He wracked his brain, trying to remember if she had a pet or if she'd unofficially gotten a roommate.

 

 _My car, named after the first song that came on my stereo when I left my old job_. It was only a bit of a fib, she reasoned with herself, Tracy Chapman _was_ on the stereo that day. _She's an old '89 Jeep and parking and insurance are killer here!_

 

He chuckled at that one. _One of the reasons so many New Yorkers take a cab._

 

 _Yeah, well, you can't take a cab cross country and live in the backseat,_ she sent back, _so Tracy is here to stay._

 

_I can respect that. Used to have a '82 Chevy truck, long time ago. Best I've ever owned._

 

_Oh man, my daddy had one too! I loved riding in the back of that monster._

 

_You rode in the back of trucks?_

 

_When it's in the middle of a Texas summer night and there's nothing but stars and sky? You bet your ass I did._

 

_Wish I still had mine, I'd take you for a ride sometime._

 

Shit.

He actually sent that one.

-o-

Shit.

He actually sent that.

She stared at her phone in shock. Eliot hadn't said anything about her flirting being too much, so maybe he was just a big flirt too?

Yeah. She was going with that.

 

 _Little presumptuous, don't you think?_ She replied. _You haven't even seen my face or heard my voice yet, but you're offering me a moonlight ride?_

 

She barely had a chance to read his text of _You've got a point_ before her phone chimed with an incoming call.

A FaceTime call.

 

Holy. _Shit._

-o-

Eliot couldn't remember the last time he had this much fun with a woman. He flirted and dated with the best of them, had the stories and experience to go with, but he honestly couldn't remember the last time he enjoyed himself this much, enjoyed the chase as much as he did with Darcy.

Which, he admitted, was all kinds of fucked up.

He didn't really know what prompted him to FaceTime her. He barely tolerated using his phone for anything but as a phone, but she lit a fire in him when he saw her text. Whether she meant it to be a challenge or not, he didn't care.

She threw down the gauntlet, and he accepted.

His phone beeped and her face filled the screen. Big green eyes behind thick framed glasses, pouty lips, her hair tucked up into a messy bun with tousled bangs framing her face-

“Hi,” she said quietly, biting her bottom lip. “I'm, uh, I'm Darcy.”

“Hi Darcy,” he replied, just as soft. “I'm Eliot.”

-o-

She didn't know what to expect when she thumbed 'Accept', but a soft-haired cowboy with a husky voice and bright blue eyes?

_Definitely not that._

“So what do you think?” he drawled, a small smile on his lips. “Do I match my 'gorgeous voice'?”

“Ugh,” she groaned and flopped backwards on her pillows, eyes closed. “I am not answering that for fear of incriminating myself.”

“Incriminating yourself, huh?” There was definitely humor in his voice now, but it was still dark and husky and made her want to shiver. “Now why would you worry about that?”

She opened her eyes, only to narrow them at his face on the screen. “Seeing as how I apologized a couple of times for being a flirt, and _you_ failed to mention _you're_ a flirt, I think I'm allowed to worry I might say something inappropriate when confronted with-” she flapped her hand at the screen “-with all of _this.”_

He laughed then, deep and rich and she felt a twist in her belly at the sound. “I appreciate the compliment, sweetheart,” and oh, he had to break out the southern endearments, didn't he? “But I ain't a pretty face.”

“Yeah,” Darcy drawled, “I'm gonna have to call bullshit on that one, cowboy.”

“Cowboy?” He quirked his lips at that, and Darcy had to forcibly remind herself not to stare at his mouth.

 _You are made of sterner stuff, Lewis_ , she fiercely told herself, and focused back on Eliot- who had laid back on his pillows with an arm tucked behind his head, and _holy biceps Batman_ -

He was laughing at her again, and she sighed. “I said that out loud, didn't I?”

“You did,” he grinned, bright and quick, and Darcy sucked in a breath because _goddammit_ of course he had a great smile, _of course he did_ \- “So, Texas girl, huh?”

-o-

Eliot prided himself on his ability to focus; it had saved him, and the lives of his team, countless times, so to completely lose track of time while he flirted with a pretty woman?

He was over his head, _deep._

He only stopped talking when he noticed Darcy was yawning, her eyelids heavy and voice thick. “You alright there, songbird?” he asked, concerned.

“Hm? Oh, yeah, just tired,” she replied, jaw cracking with another yawn. “Long day at work, long day at home, and now we've been talking for like, three hours.”

He felt a flash of guilt at the realization he was keeping her awake. “Do you need some rack time?”

“Probably wouldn't hurt,” she shrugged, her glasses slipping down her nose. “I think I'm tired enough I can ignore the DJ upstairs.”

“DJ? What DJ?” he demanded, suddenly concerned for his building. “Why is there a DJ on my roof?”

“Alex? She's is throwing a party, brought him and a douche of a bartender. He used my garden for drinks, almost completely destroyed it.” She blinked at him, concerned about the tightness in his jaw. “Eliot?”

“I'm alright, darlin',” he flashed her a tight smile, and she gave him an unconvinced look. “I am, just concerned. You lock your door?”

“All of them,” she nodded, thinking it was just his need to make sure his tenants were safe. “I actually found your note after I found the party. It was a nice change from how the day was going.”

“Glad I could be of service, pretty girl,” he chuckled, and Darcy gave him a sleepy smile in return.

She missed his slight intake of breath as she yawned again. “'m sorry, 'm gonna have to sleep soon, I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“It's alright, Darcy, you get yourself to sleep and we'll talk soon, alright?” he gave her a gentle smile as she started to protest. “Maybe next time I'll even have my guitar with me, yeah?”

“Okay, yeah, sounds good.” she mumbled, waving at the camera. “G'night, Eliot. Sleep well.”

“Sweet dreams, darlin'.” He waved back, waiting until she ended the call to let out a deep breath.

Shit.

He was officially fucked.

He could only hope that Parker and Hardison didn't find out.

-o-

They found out.

Of course they did.

They were only three hours into the op, and they'd already made twenty three jokes about dating a younger woman.

Scratch that, he amended as he grabbed a guard's head and slammed it into the wall; twenty four if he counted the one about the parrots.

“Little more professionalism here, guys?” he demanded, ducking a swing from a second guard.

“You mean like you being in UST with your new tenant?” Parker sniped back, ponytail whipping as she twisted around a third. “Cause I mean really-”

“Could we not do this now?” Eliot growled, the last guard falling to the ground between them.

“I second that,” Hardison chimed in over the comms. “We've got incoming. C'mon, time to go!”

“This isn't over,” Parker warned as they raced down to the van. “I like Darcy, I do, but she's very-”

“She's what? Innocent? Caught up in something she can't control?” Eliot snapped as they climbed into the back. “This is none of your business, Parker, I don't-”

“She's very smart and talented at what she does, and I want her to work for us.” Parker cut in, gripping onto the seat as the van peeled into traffic. “She's also on Hydra's wanted lists, and that's a security concern for everyone, but especially for you since she lives in your building. I don't want to see anyone get hurt if they come for her.”

“Didn't you and Hardison vet her already?” Eliot was tired, he was hungry, one of the guards got in a lucky shot to his ribs, his seat belt wasn't working and he did not have the patience for this. “Why bother setting her up with me if you were gonna kick her out?”

Parker gave him an unreadable look, head tilted to the side. “Because I think she'll be good for you,” she finally admitted, “assuming you let her. Don't screw this up, I was serious before. I want her working for us by the new year.”

“And how is that gonna work out, exactly?”

“Easy,” Parker flashed him a shark-grin, sharp and sleek. “You'll fall in love, train her like you did me, and then we bring her in.”

“Parker-”

“Yo, we got incoming!” Hardison called from the driver's seat. “Eliot, get up here and do your scary face or something, they're gaining!”

“This ain't over, Parker,” Eliot warned as he climbed to the front of the van.

“Nope, it's not.” she agreed brightly. “Not by a long shot.”

-o-

He had a couple of texts from Darcy waiting for him when they got back to the hotel. They lost their tails over a hour ago, but kept driving to make sure. He thumbed open his messages in the privacy of his room, curious what had her blowing up his phone.

 

_Looks like I'm pulling a double overnight, Doris is still at the hospital with her husband and Lisa quit for the third time this month. Sorry._

_I'll be getting off around 5 am today? Tomorrow? Shoot me a text when you're free, I'll try to answer._

_When do you get back again? I can pick you up from the airport and we can do that face-to-face finally. Well, real face-to-face, I mean._

_The other face-to-face was nice too. And yes, cowboy, you met, matched and went so beyond my expectations._

_Especially that smile of yours._

 

He grinned at her last text before he typed a quick reply. He sent it off and dropped his phone on the bed, making his way to the shower to scrub off the dirt and sweat from the op.

It had been a while since he felt the need to shelter someone from this part of his life. According to her file, Darcy had seen plenty of blood and destruction. He didn't need to bring it back home to her, didn't want to bring any more to her doorstep.

It's what made her run away from it all before.

-o-

Darcy checked the clock hanging over the doorway- 2:13 am. Three more hours until she could leave, and about three hours since her last chance to sit and take a break. Apparently the Mets went into double overtime or something, and the game finally let out after one am, same time as the bars, so naturally everyone wanted food and coffee while they yelled about botched plays and lousy umpires and failed to sober up.

She wouldn't care so much if it didn't mean the chances of harassment got significantly higher. Marco and Burt, the line cooks back in the kitchen, gave her commiserating looks when the patrons whistled or shouted for her attention. The few that grabbed her wrist- and in one case, her thigh- got worse service for their trouble.

Except the guy who grabbed her thigh. Burt, one hundred seventy angry pounds of sixty-years-old chain-smoking Brooklyn, got in his face and made the entire table leave- but not before leaving her a very generous tip.

It almost made up for the bruises on her thigh.

Almost.

She had finished wiping down most of the empty tables when her phone chimed an alert. The diner was mostly empty at this point, so she yelled over the counter that she was taking her break and ducked into the back storeroom before Marco could stop her.

_Hey pretty girl, just got back myself. Give me a few minutes to shower?_

_A few is all you've got, I'm on break now but no guarantees I'll stay on._ She typed back. _Marco is really whiny about missing the game for his shift. Not great company._

She leaned back against the wall with a sigh, her phone tucked back into her apron pocket. Everything hurt, she missed dinner and Burt had knocked her takeout box out of the fridge when he had gone for more eggs. He offered to replace it, but Darcy didn't trust 24/7 takeout joints anymore than she trusted her ex.

Turns out nerds could be even more vindictive than jocks when you break up with them. Especially if they put their genius IQ to it.

Who knew?

Her phone chimed when she was almost done with her break, but she still swiped open Eliot's text.

_Still there sweetheart?_

-o-

He still had a towel draped around his shoulders when Darcy FaceTimed him. He hit accept without thinking, only to be greeted by a strangled noise and a red-faced Darcy.

“You alright there, songbird?” he asked, lips quirked in a half-smile. “You need any help?”

“Yeah, no, yeah, just wasn't expecting, um, chest!” she squeaked, eyes determinedly fixed to the side. “It's a surprise is all! A nice, musclely surprise.”

Eliot laughed, and Darcy gave him a quick look from under her lashes. “Careful, sweetheart, you'll give a man a complex like that.”

“Not possible,” she snarked with a grin. “I hear you're a total teddy bear under that total badass shell you've got going. You like to cook for others, like to garden, you play the guitar and sing-”

“Where did you hear about the cooking and the garden?” he asked, momentarily off guard. “I never told you about that.”

“I think I have a tiny blonde fairy godmother made of breakfast cereal and burglary. She's dating this hacker who keeps sending me texts regarding my 'almost boyfriend' and his hobbies.” She blinked at him innocently, and he grumbled at his coworkers.

“Parker really likes you, if that helps any?” he offered, sitting on the edge of the bed.

“Yeah, no, not really,” she leaned towards her phone as if telling a secret. “I'm actually more interested in what this guy I met thinks of me. Maybe you know him? Tall, handsome, great smile and gorgeous voice?”

“Yeah, I think I know him. I hear he's pretty fond of you too,” he smiled as her cheeks turned pink. “Matter of fact, I'd say he's more than a little sweet on you.”

“Oh, good. I'm kinda sweet on him too,” she smiled back, soft and sweet, and he let out a breath she could hear.

“Were you serious about picking me up from the airport?” he asked her, watching her intently. “Because we should be done here by Sunday, and I really don't want to spend another night in a hotel if I don't have to.”

“Wouldn't have offered if I didn't mean it,” she replied, “even if Tracy's not the most comfortable ride. She's clean, though, and she's dependable, and that's what matters.”

“Trust me, darlin', I've had worse rides than anything you can throw at me,” he laughed. She giggled and caught her lower lip between her teeth before nodding.

“But... yeah. Just send me when and where and I'll be there. Doris and Frank owe me for tonight, so if I tell them it's to pick up my landlord they'll be more than understanding.”

“Just your landlord?” He sent a smirk her way, but her responding laugh was slightly stilted and uncomfortable.

“For now, yeah,” she sighed. “As much as I loved hearing you sing, and as fun as the letters and the texts and everything has been, I still don't really know you, Eliot. I've learned my lesson last time- get the real measure of the man first, everything else later. And I don't want this- _us-_ to turn into something bad, not just because I'm your tenant.”

“I can respect that,” he wasn't too surprised, not after reading what Hardison had pulled up on her last ex. Ian Boothby, studied at Oxford before interning for Jane Foster. He and Darcy were involved for a short amount of time, before Boothby began spreading pictures and Darcy's contact information across revenge porn websites.

Somehow, Rising Tide managed to hit every site that hosted her information and Boothby never caught on until it was too late.  Apparently, one of Darcy's old classmates was a member.

Hardison still cackled over the reports of what they did to him.

Darcy blew out a breath, obviously relieved. “Cool. You being understanding, I mean. It's just, yeah. I don't want to push for something you don't want, and you seem like the kind of guy to respect clear boundaries, so I'm not like, super worried? I just don't want us to get weird.” She scrunched her nose in irritation. “Does that even make sense?”

“It does, and again, I can respect that,” Eliot ran a hand through his hair with a wince. “I'm sorry, sweetheart, but I'm gonna be the one to sign off tonight. I need to catch at least an hour, maybe two, or I'm gonna be dead weight tomorrow.”

She smiled at him, genuine and soft. “That's okay, Marco's already kicked the door to let me know my break's over. Send me the details and I'll see you Sunday, okay?”

“See you then,” he winked, and was rewarded with another blush as she ended the call.

He leaned back with a sigh, towel dropped to the floor next to the bed.

Damn, but was he in trouble.

-o-

She was dead. Or nearly dead. She wasn't really sure which, just that even her _hair_ hurt, and she had let it down before her last shift was even up.

It was pretty common these days, actually. Doris's husband was still in the hospital, but they couldn't afford for her to keep missing shifts. She was back to slinging burgers and coffee with Darcy, but her face was pinched and her hands shook more often than not. Some days, she didn't even wear her lipstick, and that's when Darcy knew it was bad. Lisa had come back for the fourth time, but Frank had _finally_ had enough of her antics and refused to hire her back. This meant they were a waitress short for the heavy rushes, which normally Darcy hated.

This time, she was putting a third of her heavy rush tips aside for Doris, and had set up a donation jar with Harry's picture near the register.

Doris had cried and smacked Darcy on the shoulder when she saw.

Darcy told her she loved her too.

Thankfully, today was turning out to be a slow one. She swapped shifts with Doris, taking the lighter morning rush while Doris was with Harry. She had scheduled it with enough time that she could clock out, get home, shower and change, and then pick Eliot up at the airport.

She may have wanted to take it slow, but not glacial.

It was with a sigh of relief that she waved goodbye to Frank and headed out the door. She already had her outfit planned out- a cute lacey crop top, pair of cutoff shorts, and some cowboy boots she picked up back in New Mexico, all those years ago.

They were scuffed and stained by their time in the desert, but then again, so was she.

They were a nice reminder of what she'd survived, and how much more she could endure.

Strength wasn't just measured in destruction, after all.

It wasn't long before she was back on the road, windows down, radio up, enjoying an unseasonably nice July day. Eliot had given her directions to a private airstrip a bit outside city limits, and she enjoyed the green hills passing her by.

“Should have brought a picnic,” she muttered as she eased onto a gravel road. “Least then we could enjoy the weather a bit more.”

She pulled up to the side of the tarmac and parked next to a hanger. No one else was around, so she kicked her heels up on the dash and pulled out her phone to text Eliot of her arrival.

  
_Hey, I'm here. Is there a specific spot for me to wait for you or what?_

 

She kept the radio on while she waited, humming along to her favorite songs and tipping her head back for the rest until she heard the distant roar of a approaching plane. She titled her head up to watch it circle around before taxiing down the runway. It came to a stop not too far away, and her phone buzzed in her hand.

 

_We just landed. Give me a minute and I'll head your way._

 

_No need, cowboy, I can see you just fine from here._

 

She got out of her seat and stretched, the midday sun catching on her bared stomach before she leaned back against Tracy's hood. The ground crew was there for their post-flight routine, but Darcy only had eyes for the door of the plane.

-o-

“Hot damn,” Hardison whistled as he looked out the window. “Eliot, don't get me wrong, I am a happily taken man, but _damn.”_

“What the hell are you-” Eliot crossed the plane in three strides, peering at the window next to Hardison. _“Damn.”_ he breathed.

Darcy was leaning against her Jeep, elbows propped on the hood with her legs crossed at the ankle. Her head was tilted back as she lazily watched the plane, almost glowing from the sunlight on her skin.

“Damn,” Hardison agreed, and Parker pointedly cleared her throat behind them. “Right, sorry man.” He clapped Eliot on the shoulder before making his way to where Parker waited with their bags. “Coming dear, yes dear.”

“Don't push it,” Parker knocked her shoulder against him. “Eliot, don't screw it up.”

“Would you stop that?” he demanded. “I'm not gonna screw it up.”

“That's what you always say, right before you screw it up,” Parker nodded sagely. “So you're going to wait until we're down the steps before you leave.”

“What-”

“Trust me,” Parker had her business face on, staring at him with intent. “And roll up your sleeves, show off those forearms.”

“ _Parker!”_ He barked, and she twirled down the steps with a giggle. He fidgeted with the sleeves of his henley before he groaned and pushed them up past his elbows. “Goddamit, Parker, this better be worth it.”

-o-

Darcy waved as Parker and Hardison disembarked first, Hardison carrying both their bags. “Someone misbehave?” She called over with a pointed look.

Hardison made a strangled noise while Parker laughed, before the blonde waved back. “Just a slip of the tongue,” she called back. “We're off, enjoy!”

“Enjoy wha-” Darcy's voice died in her throat as Eliot finally appeared at the top of the steps. “Oh. Enjoy that.” she said faintly, glad she was leaning against Tracy's front bumper.

He was taller than she expected, bigger too, but not ridiculously built like Thor. He moved with an easy gait, his jeans faded and worn in. She had a moment where she thanked whatever deity inspired him to push up his sleeves before she pushed off her car, hands in her back pockets as she made her way over to meet him.

“Hey there cowboy, got everything you need?”

His jaw tightened before he was moving her way, his bag dropped on the tarmac as he literally swept her off her feet.

So, that answered her question. Eliot definitely knew how to kiss.

Oh _god,_ did he know how to kiss.

His lips were firm and insistent against hers, moving against hers with just the right amount of pressure. One hand tangled in her hair to tilt her head back to meet his mouth, and his other arm wrapped tight around her waist to pull her _up_ as he leaned _down_ and _oh_ _god._ The softness of his lips, the way his stubble scraped across her skin, the heat of him; it all made her shiver, and he managed to pull her even _closer_ when he felt it.

 _Glad I brushed my teeth after all_ , she thought hazily before giving in to the kiss. Her hands curled around the back of his neck, pulling herself up and closer until she was on her toes, her weight resting against Eliot as she _melted_ into him.

She lost track of time before he pulled away, his hold slacking until she was resting on her feet again. He leaned his head down, his breath _just_ _barely_ brushing against her lips. “Oh,” she blinked up at him. “Um, hi?”

“Hi,” he gave her the same soft smile from when they first talked. He seemed more relaxed, less intense than when he first got off the plane, but he still held her like he was going to kiss her again and she was not opposed to that.

 _So_ not opposed to that.

She was completely at a loss for words, though, and cast around trying to think of anything to talk about besides the completely earth-shaking kiss they just shared so she'd stop gaping up at him like a stunned fish.

Eliot seemed to find it cute, however, and pressed a kiss to her forehead before gently disentangling from her. “You eaten yet?”

“Wha- what?” she had to clear her throat twice, but there was still a residual husky quality to her voice. “Um, no, I figured we could grab something on the way back and I could cook?”

“You picked me up, the least I can do is cook you dinner,” Eliot bent down to grab his bag from where he'd dropped it. “But I'm not feeling like cooking just yet. What say we get into that machine of yours and go find someplace quiet to talk?”

“Talk! Yes, talk. Talking is good,” she nodded frantically. “Um, let me go unlock the doors, it'll be just a minute-”

He didn't give her a minute, just pulled her close, the skin of his arm warm against the small of her back as his hand rested loosely on her hip. He gently guided her back to where Tracy sat waiting, watching her with dark blue eyes. “You sure you're okay to drive there, darlin'? You're lookin' a little shaken up.” he teased, his voice even lower and dirtier and she tripped over her own feet.

“I'm fine!” She squeaked, digging in her pocket for her keys- which he promptly plucked out of her hands. “Hey!”

“I know of a place a few miles from here, it's a nice quiet little town where we can get some food and privacy. I'm not stealing her, I promise.” he laughed, and something in her relaxed as she caught his gaze.

Warm, open, no trace of whatever inspired that kiss. Yeah, she could do this.

“Okay,” she said, “You drive, but no touching the radio.”

“You drive a hard bargain, darlin',” he opened the door for her, leaning in close to whisper in her ear. “I look forward to negotiatin'.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so things might slow down on the fic side of things because job hunting is getting very serious over here, but I hope to have this story finished up long before Christmas. Or hopefully close enough to finish by Christmas.
> 
> Also, I have a fic tumblr now! Come say hi and prompt me if you like! druid-moon.tumblr.com


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eliot finally acts like a goddamn adult and talks to Darcy, and Darcy listens to every word he says- and all the ones he doesn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken to calling this chapter "EMOTIONAL DELICACY? WHAT EMOTIONAL DELICACY?"

Having Eliot behind the wheel was... nice, Darcy reflected.

He had to adjust the seat for his height, making faces at her when she giggled from the passenger side, but he drove just fine. He wasn't too hard on the gas and handled the gearshift like a pro; she would say he was almost delicate if she didn't know the strength required for the aging clutch.

But still. She dragged her mind back to The Kiss, studying it from all angles and perspectives she could think of.

 Eliot had said he understood where she was coming from, which was a point in his favor. That kind of kiss on the first actual meeting though? Plus ten for technique, _minus five thousand_ for timing. Jesus christ, he had told her he understood and then he just picked her up and kissed her senseless? Did he not realize what that _looked_ like? How it made her _feel?_

 _Probably not_ , she thought as she stole a glance at him behind the wheel. _Not looking too good for the long-term there, Darcy girl._

“You alright over there, songbird?” He glanced over at her. “You're kinda quiet.”

“Yeah, just... just thinking,” she replied automatically, not ready to share her thoughts just yet. “How far away is this place again?”

“Few more minutes now, not too much longer.” Eliot glanced her way again, studying her face. “Alright, yeah, this isn't working. Hang on.”

“Eliot wha-AH!” Darcy yelped as he yanked the wheel _hard_ to the right, taking them off the main road and down a small untended truck path, tires screeching and spitting gravel. “What the actual  fuck! Where are we going?”

“You ain't happy, darlin', and I'm not letting that stand.” he replied, jaw tense as he navigated down the road. “We're not gonna wait for food to talk after all.”

“You can't just bully me into doing what you want!” Darcy argued, bracing herself against the jolting of the Jeep. “You _ask_ people things, Eliot, not borderline kidnap them in their own car!”

He didn't say anything in return, just navigated the car to a stop under a tree. They say there in silence, the engine ticking as it slowed and cooled.

“I'm not a nice man, Darcy,” his voice, sudden in the silence, made her jump. His hands were tight around the steering wheel, and Darcy suddenly realized that this wasn't the Eliot she had gotten a glimpse of.

This was another Eliot, the working Eliot. Hardison had called him their 'hitter', and she now understood why.

“I've done things- a lot of things- that I'm not proud of. Because I was told to, because it was the easiest way, because I had no other choice- and I regret each and every one of them. Hardison's been telling you my secrets, has he even mentioned my past?”

“No, he hasn't,” she admitted. “I told him not to. I wanted you to tell me, but only if you wanted to, not because you felt like you had to.”

He didn't say anything again, and Darcy twisted to face him in the cabin. His hands were still tight on the steering wheel, knuckles white, and she didn't think before she reached over and covered one with her own.

He was off like a shot, exploding from the driver's side with a muttered swear. Not to be outdone, Darcy unbuckled her seatbelt and climbed out after his with a shout. “Hey! I'm not done talking to you yet!”

“Goddammit, why don't you get it, Darcy?” he turned to face her, and she was stricken by the look on his face. Raw, wounded, flushed from anger and frustration, he was barely in control.

 _Goddammit, girl, you always gotta pick the volatile ones?_ Her daddy's voice echoed from her memories and she choked back a sob. From the look on Eliot's face, he thought it meant she was afraid of _him_ and he took a step back.

So she stepped forward.

“I understand better than you think, Eliot,” she said quietly, staring him in the face. “I understand living through fire and death and doing whatever you have to do to survive. I understand what it's like to wake up screaming because you didn't make it in time, you zigged when you should have zagged, when you feel the bullets or the knife or the flames, and those are the _good_ dreams.”

She took another step forward and continued. “I know what it's like to lose yourself in secrets. I know what it means to rebuild yourself into something new, something whole. You just gotta find something to believe in, and Eliot?”

“Yeah, Darcy?” He didn't move, watching her approach like she was some kind of wild animal.

“I found something, and it's me.” She blinked back tears and stepped forward. “It's me, and I'm never gonna forget that again. But you? You've got your team, your family, and it's so _obvious_ that they don't care about who you used to be, so why do you think I do? Why don't you believe you're good?”

He shook his head as she stepped closer, slow and steady in the sunlight. “You've got enough blood in your history, songbird, and I've got too much on my hands. I can't- I'm _not_ good, Darcy.”

“And who made you think that, Eliot?” she countered, stepping close enough she could poke him in the chest as she spoke. “It sure as hell wasn't me, so it's either coming from you, or coming from someone who _matters._ So, which is it? Did someone break your heart, or did you break it yourself?”

He shook his head silently, grabbing her hand and stilling her assault.

“Someone... someone long ago promised to wait, but she didn't. She didn't, and when I came back, came back for _her,_ I offered to take all the blame, offered to take her away from everything and start new somewhere else. It didn't matter, because I loved her.” He stared down at their hands, lost in memories. “She... she gave me back my ring, said if I had really loved her, I wouldn't have gone and left in the first place.” He looked at her then, a wry twist to his lips. “I still wonder if that was true.”

“Why did you leave, Eliot?” she softly asked, reaching up to cup his cheek. “Was it because you wanted to, or because you had to?”

“Small town life, there's not a lot of opportunities for a 'billy from the wrong side of the tracks.” He laughed, a small bitter sound, and Darcy frowned. “She wasn't from one of the big families, but she was closer than I was. Her daddy trained horses, you see, and she was learning, but me? I was the stable boy, the shit shoveler. Her daddy liked me, though, said I was a good guy and she could do worse.” He shook his head and laughed again. “I signed up when I was able, wanted to get out and make enough to give her what she deserved, a good house and a good car and a man who loved her to the end and back.”

“And she didn't wait, did she,” Darcy finished, understanding dawning. “And you never stopped caring.”

“Never,” he agreed, “And then I saw her a few years ago, and it all came back, and she was there, but then she wasn't, because again, I wasn't enough. I wasn't what she wanted, and I couldn't be, not even when she asked.”

“So now you go around, beating up corporate bullies and criminals to make up for what you did and all those you've hurt.” Darcy gently tugged her hand free, only to slide her arms around him in a hug. “Oh, Eliot, you big _idiot.”_

“What?” Confused, he stared down at her. “Darcy-”

“Nope, my turn to talk now!” she shushed him. “Did you ever ask her what she _wanted_ instead of what you _thought_ she deserved?”

“She was pretty open about it- wanted a big house and family to run around, a couple dogs, maybe a cat,” he slowly backed away from her, confused as to her point. “She talked about it a lot, before I left the first time.”

“And then you left, and she realized she didn't need the big house, maybe didn't need the big family, just as long as you came back to her,” she prompted, reaching out and grabbing hold of his right hand, “Except, and this is an educated guess here, if and when you got leave and came back, you were different from before, because you had seen and done things she'd never be able to understand.”

“She accused me of cheating, said men only pulled away like that for one reason,” he murmured, and Darcy's heart just fucking _broke_ at the look in his eyes then.

“Come here,” she said, and gently tugged him back towards the tree they had parked under. “Sit,” she commanded and pointed at the base. When he sat on the ground, bemusedly leaning back against the trunk, she sat down between his legs and pulled his arms around her waist. “There. Now I won't get splinters and ruin my top, and you get reassurance that I'm not going anywhere.”

“Darcy-” he tried to dislodge her as gently as possible; she dug her nails into his arms in retaliation. “Darcy, c'mon-”

“Nope, still not done talking!” she chirped, and he sighed into her shoulder. “Look, I wasn't lying about that whole measure-before-man thing the other night, okay? I want to get to know you, Eliot, as _you,_ and that means all the good and the bad parts together so I can make an _informed decision_ and not just jump into bed with you. Because, yeah, it would be fuckin' fantastic if that kiss was anything to go by-”

“Damn right,” he muttered into her hair. She huffed at him, and he pressed his nose apologetically against her temple. “Sorry.”

“As I was saying,” she said pointedly, “I don't want just another jump-in-jump-out thing. I want someone _there,_ Eliot, not just for sex or kisses or whatever, but for there for everything. For when I bitch about work and just want to veg out in my pajamas and doesn't mind if I don't shave my legs for three weeks. I don't want a big house, I've never even thought about kids, and honestly? I don't even have a college degree or steady work history or even guaranteed safety, so who's going to hire me for something bigger than waitressing?” She shrugged in his arms, and he tightened his arms around her in response. “But I do know that I want something bigger than me, but not so big it takes away _who_ I am and makes me just a part of something or someone else. That's not what I want to be, that's not how I want to live.”

She twisted to look up at him, worrying at her lower lip. “Does that make any sense at all? I want to make sure we understand each other, Eliot, because I like you, but I don't want to screw us up before we have a chance to be _us,_ and I don't want crossed wires or mixed signals or-”

He kissed her again, soft, sweet, and lingering. “You,” he said, cupping her face in his hand, “Are too understanding to be real.”

“You are very good at avoiding the topic of conversation,” she poked him in the side, a blush high on her cheeks. “What do _you_ want, Eliot?”

-o-

He leaned back against the trunk, tugging Darcy with him. He didn't answer at first, just mindlessly traced patterns on her arms and stomach. It had been a long time since someone had asked him that, especially someone without a motive of their own.

“I'm not sure,” he finally murmured, giving her a light squeeze. “I've dated a lot of women, Darcy, and slept with a few more, but it was never- it was never liked what it was, all those years ago. I'm not sure I'd even be able to that guy again.”

“You weren't listening if you think I want who you _were,_ Eliot,” she chastised gently. “I want who you are now, and if that guy isn't able to give me what I'm asking, that's okay. We can be friends, we can be landlord and tenant, but we will _not_ be a disaster, you hear me? I'm not going to go down that road if there's not even a chance, Eliot, so please. Take your time, do what you need, but above all else, please, be _sure.”_

He didn't say anything, just buried his face in the curve of her neck and shoulder. She didn't say anything either, just relaxed against him with her hands curled around his wrists.

-o-

She dozed off at some point, and maybe he did too, because the next thing she knew the sun was setting and he was gently shaking her awake. “Darcy, c'mon, time to get up.”

“Wha' ha'ened?” she slurred, and he chuckled against her back. “Wha'?”

“Nothing, darlin', nothing,” he replied, pressing another light kiss to her crown. “We've been here for a while is all, we need to get back to the city. You okay with me driving again?”

“Thass fine,” she nodded, groggy and disconcerted. “Time to go?”

He helped her to her feet first, his hands steadying her from behind before he joined her. “Time to go,” he nodded at the sun, low and heavy in the sky. “It's getting late, songbird. We need to get you home.”

“'kay,” she stretched with a groan, rubbing at her eyes under her glasses. “Blegh. Want some water? I have some in the back, I think.”

“I'll get the water, you go sit down. When's the last time you even slept?” he asked, gently steering her towards the passenger seat. “You look exhausted, darlin'.”

“Um, yesterday? I worked day shift today, then came to get you, so... yeah, yesterday.” She rubbed her eyes again, sounding more awake by the minute. “Sorry, I haven't really been sleeping well. Crazy schedule and all. Doris's husband is still in the hospital and we're still a waitress short.”

“Why's he in the hospital?” Eliot asked as he opened a bottle of water for her. “Is he sick?”

“No, he fell and hurt his shoulder and his arm on the steps. They thought it was just a sprain, but apparently he like shattered his shoulder or something and they're waiting on a specialist. Doris says their landlord was supposed to fix the steps and never did, so they're trying to get him to help with medical bills, and it's just a big mess.” Darcy took the water with a nod of thanks. “We started a second tip jar for him at work. Doris cried.” She grinned. “Then she said some unladylike things when I gave her some extra. She thinks I should be using my money on me, not 'two old folks'. Please. She practically adopted me, it's the least I could do.”

Eliot climbed into the driver's seat and started the engine with a smile. “You've got a real caring heart, Darcy. It's a dangerous thing, in any kind of life.”

“Yeah, well, it's my greatest strength and my greatest weakness,” she shrugged. “I'm pretty sure my alignment's like, Neutral Good or something.”

“Neutral Good?” He twisted around to watch as he backed up enough to turn around. “Is that a geek thing?”

“It's totally a geek thing,” she agreed, “And it's a great thing. Maybe some day I'll get you and Parker and Hardison all over and we'll play a game or three. You're totally a monk. Like, flat out, you've even got the whole zen thing going.”

“One of these days, I'll be able to have a conversation with the three of you and not be confused by the end of it.”

-o-

Things were... better, she supposed. They weren't perfect, or even great, but they were better. Eliot was even more relaxed, the stress lines on his face almost completely gone, and she felt lighter herself. It wasn't an ideal situation, but she felt better for having talked a bit more.

And her nap. She'd never fallen asleep on a person before, but she felt surprisingly well-rested for sleeping sitting up against a person.

“Hey, are you okay?” she turned to look at him, watching how the street lights streaked over his face. “You've been running since like, forever. Did you get any sleep back there?”

“Nah,” he replied easily, his left arm resting on the open window. “Not secure enough for me to sleep. I don't need much anyway, and I've gone for longer without.”

“Okay, but you're gonna get some sleep when we get back, right?” she prompted, “You're not gonna just like, Super Soldier through it?”

“No, dear, I'm not gonna 'Super Soldier' my way through it,” he drawled, shifting gears. “Now pick something on the radio, since I'm not allowed to touch it.”

“Fine, but don't blame me if it's like, disco or something,” she warned, leaning forward to fiddle with the dials. “Oh, hey, 90s music!”

“You even old enough to remember those years?” he teased. “You seem a little... spry to be remembering it all that clearly.”

“Oh yeah I remember, Pogs, Power Rangers, Saturday cartoons, Barbie's Malibu Dream House, the whole nine yards.” she snickered at him before rolling her eyes. “Yes, I remember the 90s. Alanis Morrisette, Tracy Chapman, Paula Cole, L7, Buffy.”

“You're killing me,” he groaned. “So you listened to L7, which is impressive for a toddler, by the way, but what, no Soundgarden,, no Nirvana or Pearl Jam or Stone Temple Pilots?”

Darcy shrugged and leaned back into her seat. “My babysitter preferred female and female-fronted acts. Said it was a great way to introduce me to the idea that men and women could both jam as equals when my dad confronted her about it. She also threw in a bit of Shania and Faith Hill and Dolly and Reba, because, y'know, Texas. It's kinda why I picked that song, the first time we met?”

“The Dolly song?”

“The one and the same. I had such a bad experience with my ex, and I've seen firsthand what happens when you love someone but it doesn't seem like they love you back. I just... I think even then, I kinda wanted to tell you about me? Ugh, I sound like one of those cliché rom-com girls, don't I?” she flopped back against the seat.

“Little bit, yeah, but I don't mind so much,” Eliot reached over and squeezed her hand. “It's kind of cute when you get all flustered.”

“That's it, I've added a cake onto your penance.” she announced.

“What in hell are you talkin' about, songbird?”

“You promised to cook dinner for me, right? Well, now you get to make a cake for me too.”

-o-

The drive back to New York was full of banter and laughter and smiles. Eliot was taciturn by nature, but Darcy was definitely not, so she filled the silence with jokes and tidbits about her life. Eventually, though, he started opening up, telling her stories about Parker and Hardison's antics both in and out of the office.

“Did I tell you she offered me a job when we first met?” Darcy asked as they reached the city limits. “Said I was too good to be a waitress, in her own weird Parker way.”

“She didn't, but she did say she wants you working for us,” Eliot mused, “Same thing in Parker-talk, when you get down to it. Must have seen something in you to say that though.”

“Yeah, mama's teachings,” Darcy snorted. “Waitressing is basically a long con- you make folks think you're interested, that you care, that you're not screaming in pain and just need one more hour of sleep. But instead of a big payload at the end of it, all you get is bunions and pocket change.”

“Sounds like you're considering a career change,” he said neutrally, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Gonna take her up on her offer? Come work for a bunch of crazies in an office?”

“Not on your life,” she smirked up at him, “I'm not getting any closer to my mama than I need to. I may not have been the best daughter, but I promised my daddy I'd never turn out like her.”

“Con-woman?”

“Petty grifter with a penchant for hard-working Southern boys,” she drawled. “The one time she tried to make it big, she got caught breaking federal law and went on the run. Got arrested in some tiny diner in some tiny town, and we never saw her again. Daddy served her with divorce papers when she was in prison and moved us to a new town. Mama never tried to contact us, or me, even after daddy died, so, y'know.”

“Fuck her?” He asked, easily navigating Tracy through the traffic.

“Fuck her!” she crowed, slamming her hand down on the armrest. “But yeah, I'm sure y'all are nice folks and you do good and all, but I'm so far down the grifter chain I don't even have a link.”

“I dunno, Darce-” the nickname fell easily- too easily- from his lips- “Just don't discount it. I'm not even sure what Parker would have in mind for you, you're a bit... memorable.”

“Classy way of saying my tits can knock a dude out,” she winked, and he choked on air. “You alright there, cowboy?”

“Just find, songbird, just fine.” he recovered nicely, or so he thought until he saw her face. “We're almost home. You like Italian?”

“Italian?”

“Yeah, the dinner I promised you. Italian good, or do you prefer something else?”

“Honestly?”

“Honestly.”

“You got any steak?”

-o-

“Okay, you cook a mean steak.” Darcy admitted as she delicately wiped her mouth. “You still owe me a cake though.”

“You just ate a ten ounce steak, skillet potatoes, _and_ fresh greens and you're still demanding sweets?” Eliot shook his head as he cleaned up their plates. “You're gonna run me ragged feeding you, songbird.”

“I'm a growing girl!” she protested, making no move to get up from her chair. “I need all I can get!”

“Yeah, you're a delicate flower of youth, alright.” Eliot shot back, wiping his hands on a towel. “C'mon, I got something for you in the living room.”

“Ooh, is it a pony?” she asked gleefully, watching as he laughed and pulled her to her feet. “Two ponies?”

“No ponies, but hopefully something better.” He replied over his shoulder as he tugged her into the living room. “There. Couch, sit, watch.”

“Watch wha- oh.” Darcy stared as he laid a guitar case down on the floor and undid the snaps, revealing a beautifully worn two-tone acoustic laying down in the velvet. He picked it up and seated himself on the arm of the chair across from her, running his hands gently over the strings before he looked up to meet her gaze.

“I told you I'd bring my guitar, remember?” he gave her a shy smile, and for the second time today, Darcy Lewis _melted._

And then he started to play, and she went from _melted_ to _shocked_ , because he was playing _the song_.

Her _favorite_ song, the one she heard in a bar down in Texas.

Holy. Fucking. _Shit_.

-o-

He focused on the music, until the song was over and the notes tapered off into silence. He looked up to see Darcy staring at him in shock, eyes wet and lips parted.

“You... _you're_ the guy I've been trying to find?” she asked, her voice thick and hoarse. “I've been haunted by that song since I heard it down in Texas, no one ever knew what happened to the singer, and all this time it's been you?”

“It was part of what I do,” he set his guitar back in the case and softly closed the lid. “Part of what _we_ do, what Leverage does. We help people.”

“And make gold-selling records while you're at it?” she asked incredulously. “Forgive me if I'm having trouble believing that.”

“You told me to you wanted to know the real Eliot,” he reminded her, moving to sit next to her on the couch. “This is the real me. Or part of me. What I've done, what I do- just... let me explain, alright?”

She studied his face, how his eyes were bright and clear, the tension in his mouth and shoulders. “Alright,” she conceded, “I'll listen.”

-o-

He told everything.

Start to finish, from his days in the Army serving Uncle Sam, to his days with Moreau and with Nate. He told her of the men he ruined, the lives he took. He told her about the cons and the lies and the faces he wore, and through it all, she stayed silent, folded into the corner of his couch.

He only got up to pull the cake out of the oven (“You wanted truth, sweetheart, and I want to tell you, but I'll be damned before I burn down my kitchen.”) and to fetch her a cup of hot tea when she quietly asked for one (“Sophie got me to serve her tea once. Never really forgave her for that.”).

It took hours, but Darcy was there for every minute, aware and listening to all the things he said, and all the things he didn't. When he finally fell silent, she didn't say anything at first, just sort of stared into her teacup in contemplation.

“Darcy?” he cleared his throat. “You alright there?”

She looked up at him with tears in her eyes. “Me?” she gave a watery laugh. “What about you? That couldn't have been easy.”

“It wasn't, but... but it was necessary.” He hesitantly reached out a hand, palm up in offering. “You asked me to let you know, and, well, now you know.”

“Now I know,” she agreed softly, setting her cup down on a coaster. She reached out and gently set her hand in his. “Thank you, Eliot.” she whispered, meeting and holding his gaze.

Slowly, so slowly, Darcy moved until she was kneeling in front of him on the couch. “Is it okay if I hug you? Cause you kinda look like you need a hug, and I definitely need a hug, and I'd really like to hug you again.”

He opened his arms, cheesy and over the top and designed to make her laugh. She did giggle before she settled herself in his lap, wrapping her arms around him tight. “Thank you, Eliot.” she repeated, her face tucked into his neck.

“Anytime, darlin',” he replied, resting his chin on top of her head. “Anytime.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> UGH. Sorry this is so short compared to the others, I really struggled with making the emotional talks make sense and also progress naturally beyond "AND THEN THEY KISSED AND IT WAS AWESOME BUT ALSO UPSETTING". 
> 
> [Come say hi on tumblr!](http://druid-moon.tumblr.com)


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Eliot is sweet, Darcy talks classical literature, Parker is Parker and Hardison is a bro.

They didn't eat the cake after all.

Darcy, emotionally wrung out and exhausted from the day, fell asleep cuddled into his side. Eliot rearranged them so they were stretched out on the couch instead, one arm behind his head, the other holding Darcy close.

He knew it was late, he knew she needed sleep, real sleep, before she went back to work tomorrow, but he didn't wake her up. Hell, he needed sleep, and neither of them were going to get it until she went back to her apartment.

He just didn't want to let her go yet.

He hadn't just held a woman like this in years, not since Aimee. Darcy was warm and sleep-soft against him, tucked into his side with her head on his chest, her breath light against his throat.

He thought back over their conversations that day; she had stood tall and gentle when faced with the worst of him, when his ugliest secrets were out in the open and he was as raw and bloody as his history. She hadn't flinched once, only demanded to know how, _why,_ because she just wanted to know before she judged him. It wasn't a luxury he was used to.

He sighed and pressed a feather-light kiss to the top of her head. “You're gonna be the death of me, songbird,” he murmured under his breath, lips moving against her hair. “You and your caring heart.”

She shifted against him slightly, a huff of air escaping before she pressed her face against his neck. She mumbled something incoherently against his skin before she settled back down, and Eliot knew he couldn't keep her with him any longer.

But oh god, did he want to.

He gentled shifted her to his side, careful not to wake her until he was free. “Darcy,” he knelt next to couch, his hand gentle on her shoulder. “C'mon girl, wake up.”

She made some kind of noise and mashed her face into the cushions.

God, she was adorable.

“Darcy, it's past midnight and you need sleep. Get your ass up or I'm gonna put you in my bed.” he ordered, shaking her a bit harder.

“Eliot?” She woke up enough to recognize him, at least. “What?”

“You need to get back to your place,” he murmured and watched as she blinked dazedly at him. “You either go back to your place, or I put you up in my bed for the night. Your choice, sweetheart.”

She blushed, _hard._ “Uh, my place is good. Yeah. My place.” Her jaw cracked with a large yawn as she sat up. “Sorry I fell asleep again, it's been a rough week. I think I got lazy on my way back to New York, got too used to an easy schedule.”

She tried to stand and swayed on her feet, eyes bleary. Eliot reached out and grabbed her arms, steadying her until she was able to stand by herself.

“No such thing, you're probably the least lazy person I know in this town.” he watched her in concern. “You sure you're alright? I can sleep on the couch, it's not a problem.”

“Yeah, this is nothing compared to college,” she waved her hand in dismissal. “I'll be good. I'm just fucking thankful I'm not wearing contacts right now. Ugh. That would suck so much.” She added, scrunching her nose.

“Yeah, it probably would.” He grabbed his keys as he followed her out the door. “C'mon, I'm gonna walk you to your door. I wanna make sure you don't fall asleep in the stairwell.”

“You southern boys and your chivalry,” she shook her head. “I'm fine, Eliot, really, just tired.”

“Humor me,” he said gruffly, mouth set as he escorted her up the stairs.

Darcy paused outside her door, turning to face him. She studied him for a bit, serious and intent in a way he hadn't really seen before. “You're a dangerous man, Eliot Spencer. And not for all the reasons you think.” she said softly.

He had nothing to say to that.

She fished her keys out of her pocket and unlocked her door, pausing again at the threshold. “Emotional exhaustion aside, I'm glad we talked today. Just remember what I said, okay?”

“I will, Darcy.” he stepped forward and dropped a kiss on her forehead. “Now get inside, lock your door, and go to sleep. I'll see you later. That's a promise.”

“Good, because you made me cake,” Darcy teased, “I'm gonna be at your door, bright and early for a cake breakfast.”

“I believe you.”

She grinned, wide and bright, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his cheek. “G'night, Eliot.”

“Goodnight, Darcy.” he replied, stepping back so she could close the door. He waited a few more minutes to make sure she clicked the locks in place before he gave a long exhale. “Goddamn, girl. You're gonna kill me before I can even make up my mind.”

-o-

He didn't go back to his apartment for long. It was too quiet, too still, so he grabbed his jacket and his keys and just left.

He didn't really have a destination in mind, just needed to walk, to _move._ His talks with Darcy had brought up old demons, ones he thought he had buried long ago, and he could feel them, itching and crawling under his skin. If he was a lesser man, he'd go looking for a fight, find a way to let them out in blood and broken bones.

He wasn't a lesser man, so the fight would just have to come to him.

It wasn't coincidence that led him to a little diner advertising 'Out of This World Pie!'. He slid into a booth near the back, clear sight lines and exits while the older waitress, Doris, brought him a menu and the coffee carafe. “What can I getcha, hon?”

“I'll take a cup of coffee and a slice of that pie, if you have any,” he said, sliding his cup over. “And after that, I'd like it if you could sit and talk with me a bit, if you don't mind.”

“Aren't you a charmer,” Doris chuckled as she poured his coffee. “We've got some cherry and some apple. What would you like?”

“Cherry would be great, darlin',” he charmed, smiling as she tutted at him and walked away.

“So, why's a handsome fella like you want to talk with an old woman like me?” She asked when she returned, setting his pie down in front of him. She sat on the edge of her seat, curious as he took a sip of his coffee.

“I'm a friend of Darcy's,” he began, “And she told me you've been having some trouble with your landlord. My friends and I, we can help.”

-o-

“We're not doing this.”

“Parker, we're doing this.”

“Eliot, we're not using the company so you can impress your almost-girlfriend's coworkers.”

“She's not my- look, we talked some stuff over, and she said to be sure. And in order to be sure, I have to think, and thinking about certain things makes me want to fight, and I'd rather fight guys that deserve it so could we _please_ focus on the shady landlord?”

“Hey, Eliot, man, you know I'm down with being your wingman and all but-”

“Damn it, Hardison!”

“Nah, man, Imma be real with you. Darcy's a nice girl, but she might get a little upset about you doing this. Did you even ask- you didn't ask. You didn't even tell her. She has no idea you're doing this, that's why you came and woke us up at like 3 am with- is that pie?”

“Cherry. And apple streusal.”

“...Tell me more.”

-o-

Darcy woke up at seven o' clock to someone banging on her door.

“What the hell are you doing?” she complained, grabbing an oversized flannel as she moved towards the door. “It's barely seven am, who the fuck bangs on people's doo-oh.”

Eliot was outside her door, eyebrows raised as he looked her over, a tray held between his hands. “I go through all this trouble to make you breakfast, and you insult me. I see how it is,” he teased, and Darcy's breath caught at the humor in his eyes. “Can I come in?”

“Um, sure,” she blinked and stepped out of his way, watching as he carried the tray over to her decidedly small kitchen table. “Um, not that I'm complaining, but _what_?”

“You wanted a cake breakfast, remember?” he uncovered the tray to reveal a heap of scrambled eggs, crisped bacon, sliced oranges and buttered toast- and off to the side, two small slices of chocolate cake. “I'm more of a protein kind of guy, but I figured we could split the difference.”

“Eliot, this is- this is amazing,” she said honestly, closing the door. She made her way to her table cautiously, still a bit in shock. “Confusing, but amazing. This isn't something landlords do. It's not what neighbors do. Shit, I don't think any of my friends have done anything like this, and that includes Morning After Burritos.”

“No, but it is something boyfriends do,” he said casually, searching her cabinets for something. “Where do you keep your- ah, here.” He brought over two plates and forks. “Sorry I didn't bring coffee, didn't want to risk spilling it on the way up.”

“Wait wait wait, back it up there,” she held up her hands to halt him. “Go back to the whole boyfriend thing. You were supposed to be sure, Eliot, this is less than twenty four hours. Hell, this is less than twelve hours, and you're making me breakfast and showing emotion and _talking_ -”

“A man can learn a lot in twelve hours, Darcy Lewis,” he leaned against her counter, arms loosely folded across his chest. “He can learn the secrets of the universe if he so desires, he just has to be open to the idea and the possibility of things he never considered.”

“Is that so?” Darcy was feeling a little light-headed from the intensity in his look. She cleared her throat before speaking again. “And what did this man learn in under twelve hours?”

“That sometimes, even if the universe bends and breaks and twists you into something, there's still a chance.” He uncrossed his arms and stood straight. “That even with all the ugliness out there, there's still beautiful girls full of light and hope and love that can come along and take your hand.”

He stepped closer, mimicking her movements from yesterday. “That even if he doesn't know how to be a certain way, there's still a chance he can learn.” He took her hands and pressed his lips to the backs, eyes burning as he looked at her. “And I want to take that chance, Darcy. If you'll still have me.”

She kissed him.

She pulled her hands free, throwing them around his neck and pulling herself up to his lips. There was none of the finesse from yesterday, just sheer _want_ as she pressed as close as she could, catching his lower lip between her teeth.

Eliot, bless him, caught on immediately and wrapped his arm around her waist, lifting her up as his free hand cupped her cheek and tilted her head back, pressing kisses across her jaw. She shivered as his stubble scraped across her skin, his lips marking a trail down her throat until she moaned in his arms.

He pulled back just enough to catch her eyes. “You okay with this?” he asked, voice husky and rough. “With us, I mean. I don't to get mixed up here, Darcy, you're gonna have to spell it out for me.”

“Yes,” she breathed, leaning in and pressing kisses to his jaw. “I- yes, Eliot, yes. I'll still have you, if you'll still have me.”

“Good, because I did make you breakfast, and you can't reheat eggs.” he laughed, and she giggled as he set her back on her feet. “C'mon, the more you eat of my food, the better I can learn what you like.”

“You are unreal,” she groaned, grabbing a piece of bacon from the tray. “Like, this is hands-down the best asking out ever. _And_ you want to keep feeding me. You're gonna spoil me for other men, cowboy.”

“Good,” he replied as he heaped eggs onto a plate. “Means I'll have less competition.”

-o-

“So Eliot really likes you.” Parker announced as she appeared _right next_ to Darcy on the street.

Darcy, understandably in her opinion, screamed.

“Okay, wow, unnecessary,” Parker complained, rubbing her ear. “Kind of rude, actually. You should reel that in, don't want to hurt the people helping you.”

“Do you always just randomly appear in the street, or am I just special?” Darcy demanded, hand pressed over her heart. “What are you even doing here, don't you have like super secret thief stuff to do?”

“Yeah, but it can wait,” she waved her hand in dismissal. “What can't wait is you and Eliot.”

Darcy couldn't hide her grin or her blush, even after she ducked her head down. “Me and Eliot- we're good. We're good.”

“Good.” Parker nodded. “I have stuff riding on you living together by Christmas, so make sure that happens.”

“ _Parker_!”

“He woke us up at like 3 am with pie last night so we could help your coworker with her landlord,” Parker cut in. “Which, bee-tee-dubbya, should be resolved by like, tonight, so be nice. I've never seen him like this over a girl before, even _the_ Girl, so you should be honored.”

“Wait, what- you know what, no, I'm not going to even ask. I'm going to skip right over that and go straight to wondering if you should even be telling me this, you meddlesome meddler,” Darcy shot back. “Like, this is personal, and Eliot's kind of a personal guy. If anyone tells me, I'd rather it'd be him, not you.”

“I knew I liked you,” Parker nodded. “Remember, Christmas. If you can speed it up to Thanksgiving, you'll win me a toaster.”

“You don't even need a toaster!” Darcy burst out.

“No, but Hardison hates them and would have to get me one of the super big ones.” Parker grinned, wild and slightly manic, and Darcy wondered when this got to be her normal. “Anyway, that's all, toodles!”

“Parker-” Darcy's phone chose that moment to ring, the tone signaling it was Eliot calling. “Your coworker is insane.” she greeted him.

“ _Which one?”_ he asked, laughing.

“The tiny blonde one. She's like the human version of what happens when a cat is raised by like, a family of raccoons or something.”

“ _That... is actually a pretty accurate description.”_

“I know, right? Anyway, what's up?”

“ _I wanted to know if you'd like to have dinner when your shift's over,_ ” he answered, voice warm and affectionate. _“I can walk down to the diner, we can drive back in Tracy.”_

“That sounds great, actually,” she replied, nodding to Doris as she stepped into the diner. “I'm almost about to clock in, so I'll text you on my break, let you know when I'll be off.”

“ _Good. I know you can take care of yourself, songbird, but you do work some bad hours.”_ Darcy sternly told herself not to get butterflies at him getting worried and protective.

It wasn't working.

“You're not gonna like, show up and walk me to my car every night shift now, are you?” She asked, only partially joking.

The silence on the other end was not comforting.

“Eliot, you can't just-” she complained.

“ _I know, I know,_ ” his voice was slightly strained. “ _I just... I'm_ trying _, Darcy, I am. It's just not in me to not be concerned, not when I've seen what's out there.”_

She sighed, giving completely up on squashing those butterflies. “Fine, but I get to do something nice for you every time you play shining knight.”

“ _We've been over this, darlin', I've done too much to be anyone's Lancelot.”_

“Well, good, he was kind of a dick, with the sleeping with his best friend's wife and being the reason Camelot fell and all,” she replied, tying her apron around her waist. “I prefer ones like Galahad or Gawain- you know, the ones who actually went out and did stuff, but still managed to NOT be absolute dicks when they got back?”

“ _Didn't they both die?”_

“Technically all of them died, some just lived and died better than others,” Darcy offered, shutting her purse up in the office. “Galahad sat in the Siege Perilous and found the Holy Grail and went on to heaven because he saw Joseph in a vision. Lancelot slept his way across the English countryside and ruined, like, everything, but he's the one held up as the shining knight? No thanks.”

“ _You are a full of surprises, Darcy Lewis,”_ he murmured into the phone. _“I look forward to finding each and every one of them.”_

-o-

“You've been holding out on me, girl,” Doris called out as Darcy made her way behind the counter. “That fella of yours came in last night- what are you doing, spending all your time here when you've got a dish like him back home?”

“He's not- we're not-” Darcy stammered, caught off guard. “We only just started dating like, this morning! When did you-”

“He came in last night, talked to me about Harry's hospital stay. Really nice, and easy on the eyes,” Doris waggled her brows and Darcy burst into laughter. “So how's about you tell me all about your man, and I'll go easy on you for not telling me about him.”

“Agreed, but not right now,” Darcy nodded at the door. “Looks like shift change down at the precinct.”

-o-

“Right, so, just checking, but you're like, not with Hydra, right?”

“Darcy!” Doris hissed. “Stop antagonizing the gunman!”

Because life was just perfect that way, someone decided to rob the diner right before Darcy was scheduled to clock out. As in, she had her purse in hand, heading back from the office with her time card, and this guy barreled in, screaming as he waved his gun around.

“I'm sorry, Doris, but it's kind of a thing I have to do these days,” Darcy sighed. “Look man, it's a simple question. Do you or do you not belong to the Octo-Nationalists?”

“Shut up, you crazy bitch!” he snarled, spit flying. “Just shut up!”

“Oh, so run of the mill tweaker then,” Darcy nodded and sat next to Doris on the floor. “Carry on.”

“I want all the cash. Register, wallets, tips, and that jar,” he pointed at Harry's hospital fund with his gun, causing the woman sitting at the counter to scream and huddle behind her stool. “Now!”

“Oh god, Eliot's never gonna let me live this down,” Darcy groaned, fishing her wallet out of her purse. “Hey, can I just throw you my cash? I don't actually have a card, it's all just tips and change for the cabs.”

“Stop. Pissing. Him. Off.” Doris hissed, and Darcy almost giggled at the scandalized look on the older woman's face.

“Sorry, ingrained response to weapons pointed at me, can't help it,” she said, snapping a hair tie around her tips. “Yo, Jesse Pinkman, heads up!”

“I thought I told you to shut up!” he stalked closer, gun pointed directly at her-

“Now now, that's no way to treat a lady.” Eliot drawled from the doorway.

“Fuck my life,” Darcy sighed, thunking her head against the wall.

-o-

“Hey Parker, for reasons _completely out of my control_ , I may have completely blown my cover at Frank's Diner. Is that job offer still open?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Galahad was always my favorite knight, even before the Librarians came along. Unintentional reference FTW!
> 
>  
> 
> Come find me over on tumblr! [druid-moon](http://druid-moon.tumblr.com)


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy and Eliot have a series of firsts and Parker and Hardison are just plain weird.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be smut ahead.

“ _You should have just shut up and given him your wallet.”_

“ _Eliot, we have been datin' for less than twenty four hours, don't you start thinkin' for a second that means you get to tell me what to do-”_

“ _When it comes to survival, yeah, I do, because I know ways to survive. One of which bein' don't taunt the fuckin' gunman-”_

“ _Right, because you would totally not use the opportunity to gather information-”_

“ _Not at such a high risk moment, no!”_

“ _Oh that is such bullshit, don't you even dare-”_

 

“How long have they been at it?” Parker handed Hardison a bottle of soda as she climbed over the back of the couch. “Did he kiss her yet?”

“No, but he keeps moving towards her, but then she jabs him right in the chest and yells some more.” Hardison offered her the popcorn tin and clicked a few buttons on his remote, zooming in on their faces. “It's kind of adorable, like a kitten batting at a big rottweiler.”

"Have you noticed how Darcy's accent gets thicker the angrier she gets?"

"Same with Eliot, man.  One of these days they're gonna get full Southern and we're not gonna understand a damn word."

 

“ _And another thing, don't you dare stand there and assume I'm okay with you jumpin' in there like that-”_

“ _He was pointin' his gun right at you, Darcy! At you!”_

“ _I was fine, goddammit, don't change the subject-”_

 

“Doesn't he know we have cameras and mics in that office?” Parker asker around a mouthful of popcorn. “I mean, shutting the door isn't really doing anything, we can still hear and see them.”

“Yeah, but we put so much effort into getting them together, it'd be a shame to miss this.” Hardison shrugged, leaning back against the cushions. He slung his arm over Parker's shoulders as she settled into his side. “Plus, consider it payback for waking us up last night.”

“Not that we were sleeping,” she gave him a sly grin. “I like watching you slaughter the Alliance.”

“Keep talking like that, baby girl, and we're gonna miss the entertainment.” he groaned. Parker snickered and grabbed another handful of popcorn instead.

 

“ _I ain't apologizing for savin' your life!”_

“ _I ain't mad at you about that, you big idiot! You could have gotten killed!”_

 

“Oooh, now it's getting good,” Parker grabbed the remote from Hardison and turned up the volume.

 

“ _You think I can't handle a tweaker? Huh? You think I haven't-”_

“ _I don't care what you've done, I care about what you do now! I was scared for you, you asshole!_

 

“Oh shit, it just got real.” Hardison grabbed the remote back and zoomed in on their faces again. “Twenty says she slaps him by the end of it.”

“Fifty says he lets her.”

-o-

“Darcy...” he took a step forward, only for her to flinch back. “Darcy, c'mon.”

“No, Eliot, no!” She shook her head, adamant and her voice thick with tears. “I had to know, okay? I had to be sure that he wasn't just after me, that Doris and Frank and everyone wouldn't get hurt because of me. You almost got hurt because of me!”

“It's what I do, Darcy, I take the hits so others don't have to,” he tried, but she kept shaking her head and backing away.

“I tried so hard to disappear, I tried so hard to be someone else but I couldn't, and now I screwed up so bad I can't fix it. No one can!” She started to cry in earnest, and Eliot couldn't stay back.

He stepped close, ignoring her flailing hands, and tugged her into his arms. He gently rocked her in place, rubbing her back and making shushing noises when she cried into his shirt. “It's okay, sweetheart, let it out. Let it out.”

“I-I-I just-”

“Shh, it's okay, Darcy, it's okay.”

“No it's not!” she cried, sobbing harder. “I couldn't make a new identity, not a good one. I tried, okay, I tried at first, but I didn't have the equipment and I- I lost myself. I became all these girls instead of me, and I got so lost, and finally I just gave up. I can't fake anythin' other than a driver's license, I couldn't do all the documents and credit checks and background that I needed and I slipped up, okay? I went back to bein' Darcy, but a new Darcy, because that should be enough, right? And then one fuckin' tweaker and I blow it all, screamin' about Hydra, and why would Hydra send someone after _me_ , after little waitress Darcy?”

“Darcy, listen to me, okay?” Eliot reached up and cradled her face in his hands. “You messed up, yeah, but we can fix it, okay?”

“All those people are gonna go home and google 'Darcy HYDRA' and they're gonna find out, Eliot,” she shook herself free, hiccuping. “I have to quit. I have to leave so word doesn't get out, and it's gonna get out, because it always does, and then I'm gonna have to leave, leave everythin' behind, leave you-”

He yanked her close, covering her mouth with his. He was deliberately harsh, rough, biting and sucking until she sighed and parted her lips. He licked into her mouth, tasting and taking until she was pliant and clinging to his shoulders to stay upright. Only then did he pull away, eyes dark and primal.

“You listen to me, Lewis,” he growled, sliding his hand around the back of her neck. “You can scream and cry all you want, but you ain't runnin' again, you hear me? I don't care what it takes, you ain't runnin' again. Not from me.”

-o-

“Is this getting a little... intense, or is it just me?”

“It's not just you. They're totally gonna boink in the office.”

“Aw hell no!” Hardison clicked a button, shutting down all the cameras and mics. “Hell. _No_. I do _not_ want to see that much of Eliot. I don't even want to see the amount of Eliot I _already_ see.”

“You are _so_ buying me that toaster.” Parker laughed.

“As long as I don't have to see his naked ass in high def, I'll take it.”

-o-

Anything else he might have said was lost when Darcy kissed him, frantic and needy. He gripped the backs of her thighs and lifted, carrying her over to deposit her on the desk. He didn't slow down, just slid his mouth down her throat as his hands slid up her thighs, following the curves of her hips and waist. Darcy raked her nails up his arms and shoulders, mewling desperately as he sucked a mark into her neck.

“Tell me to stop, Darcy, and I will,” he rumbled, and she yanked at his shirt in reply. “Darcy, tell me what you _want._ ”

“Right now, I want your shirt off and you on top of me,” she panted, pulling at the fabric again. “Everything else can go fuck itself.”

His eyes darkened further, pupils blown wide as he reached back and pulled his shirt off with one hand. She grinned in appreciation and slid off the desk, yanking her own shirt off in the process, leaving her in a dark violet bra and jeans.

She pressed into him, sighing at the feeling of skin on skin. “C'mon, cowboy, I'm waiting,” she teased, leaning up to press kisses to the underside of his jaw.

“You asked for it,” he replied, a hand on her back easing her to the floor. He cushioned her head with his other hand, leaning over her as he pressed her into the carpet. She moaned, arching up against him with a shiver. “Feel good, darlin'?”

“So good,” she nodded, frantic. “Need more, need you.”

“'m not gonna fuck you here, Darcy,” he thrust his hips against hers, watching as her mouth fell open at the feel of him, hard and heavy through his jeans. “I wanna take my time for that, gonna watch you fall apart around me over and over again.”

“Eliot-”

“I didn't say I was gonna leave you like this, did I?” he hummed, tangling his hand in her hair. “I'm gonna make you feel good, Darcy, all you gotta do is lay back and _feel._ ”

“I-I can do that,” she gasped as he thrust against her again. “Eliot _please_!

“That's it, sweetheart.” he coaxed. He stretched over her, watching her face as he rocked against her. She was gorgeous under him; mouth swollen and pink, eyes dark and hooded with her hair spread all around. “'m gonna touch you now, Darcy. Gonna slide my hand down and spread those pretty legs of yours, until you're wet and beggin' for me.”

“Already there,” she twisted against him, “already there, just touch me, _please!”_

“Didn't you hear me earlier, Darce?” he braced an arm and leaned back, chuckling at her slight whimper at the loss of contact. He slid his hand over her stomach, watching her face as he played with the button at the top of her jeans. “I'm gonna take you apart, just not the way you want.”

He popped the button as he kissed her, his tongue gentle as he tasted every corner of her mouth, chasing her taste. He pulled back when he reached her panties, silky smooth under his fingertips. “Wish I could see you in these,” he whispered, “One day, I'm gonna strip you down and worship every inch of you, make you writhe and scream. What do you think, darlin'? You gonna let me taste you, drink you up until you're hoarse from callin' my name?”

Darcy shuddered, dizzy as his voice washed over her. Her skin felt tight, hot, like she was burning up. “Eliot-” she whimpered, throwing her head back as his fingers circled her clit through the fabric. “Oh, _god_!”

“God's got nothin' to do with this, darlin'.” He nuzzled her bared throat, fingers finally slipping under the fabric and touching bare skin. “This is just you and me.”

“Eliot, Eliot,” she sobbed his name over and over, like a benediction, like a prayer. His fingers parted her lips and found her center, swollen and slick and molten with need. “ _Eliot._ ”

“You're so beautiful like this, Darcy, all wild and wet and wantin'.” He traced around her entrance, watching as she twisted and shuddered under him. “You're so sensitive,” he marveled. “I've only just touched you, and you're already there, aren't you?”

“Eliot _please_!” she begged as she dug her nails into his shoulders. “Please, please-”

“That's it, Darcy, that's it,” he soothed, gently slipping a finger inside her. “Do you know how good you feel? You're drenched,” he added another finger, loving how she cried out. “You're squeezin' me so tight. You gonna feel this good on my cock, Darcy? You gonna tighten around me until I see stars?”

She screamed as he lightly flicked her clit with his thumb while continuing the slow pump of his fingers. “Ye- _yes_!”

“I think you're gonna feel even better,” he said conversationally, trailing his fingers up to steadily rub her clit. “Cause I'm gonna work you over for hours, until you can't do anythin' except scream for me. You ain't gonna have a voice by the time I'm done with you, girl.”

He pinched her clit, and Darcy arched her back with another scream, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes. “Eliot, please, I can't- I can't-”

“You can, Darcy, and you will.” He abandoned her clit, thrusting his fingers back inside her with a grin before gentling his touch. “You're gonna go until I say, and then go a bit more. I haven't even gotten a chance to play with these gorgeous tits of yours yet.”

“Eliot!” she shrieked his name as he curled his fingers inside her, finding that spot that made her legs start to shake. “Please!”

“Please what Darcy?” he asked, “Please what?”

“Let me- please- I need to-”

“You need to come?” he asked, leaning down to whisper in her ear. “So come, Darcy. Now.”

With one last hard pinch to her clit, her legs locked around his hand and she screamed, her orgasm crashing over her. His constant teasing had kept her right at the edge, constantly building her pleasure higher and higher, and now it felt like it would never end.

She came back to herself a while later, her head pleasantly fuzzy as Eliot cradled her against, her head on his shoulder as he stroked her sides and back. She stretched, nuzzling at his throat with a little smile on her face. “Eliot?”

“I'm here, Darcy,” he murmured, his lips pressed against her forehead. “I'm here.”

-o-

“Yo, man, I don't mean to be crude or nothin', but you're cleaning that office tomorrow.”

“ _Hardison, how the hell do you know that?”_

“Oh, uh, you see-”

“We wanted to watch you fight. Didn't watch you boink though.” Parker leaned over his shoulder to talk into the mouthpiece. “So, y'know, points on that. I'm this much closer to winning the Toast'o'matic 5000 now. Good job.”

“ _...what is wrong with you?”_

“Hey, Eliot, you did make sure to use protec-”

“ _Dammit, Hardison, I'm going to kick your ass tomorrow.”_

-o-

“So your creepy coworkers had on video cameras and microphones because they wanted to watch us fight, and you didn't realize they had bugged every room in the office?” Darcy called from her bathroom. “That's kinda gross, dude.”

“They didn't watch us... do anything, at least according to Parker. I believe her.” Eliot sat on the corner of her bed, elbows propped on his knees.

“Yeah, believe the insane raccoon-cat, that's a brilliant idea.” Darcy came out of the bathroom in a flannel shirt and pajama shorts, tying her hair into a low ponytail. “Is it weird that I'm becoming used to their idiosyncrasies?”

“Just wait,” he smirked as he reached out, dragging her closer and resting his hands on her hips. “Parker's will change by next month and you'll have to learn all the new ones.”

“Nah, I think her penchant for gleefully torturing the innocent and popping up like a jack-in-the-box are permanent fixtures of her personality,” she replied, combing her fingers through his hair. “Kinda like Hardison and the hoarding of orange soda and USB cables in his office fridge.”

“How do you-”

“They told me,” she shrugged in answer to his question. “I stand by my opinion they've adopted me like some sort of weird pet, only I can feed and water myself.”

“Can we please stop talking about my coworkers when we're in your bed and you're dressed like that?” he groaned, resting his head against her stomach. “There are so many other things we could be doing.”

“Like sleeping?” she arched a brow at him. “Or maybe me helping you with that not-so-small problem you've been having since the office?”

“We ain't got enough time for that tonight, darlin', but maybe tomorrow.” He pulled her down on top of him, rolling so she was pressed under him again. “You're gorgeous, you know that?” he asked softly, eyes tracing her face.

“You're not so bad yourself, cowboy.” she smiled up him, lightly tracing the line of his jaw with her fingertips. “You gonna come to bed with me?”

“I really shouldn't,” he admitted, “But I don't want to go.”

“I don't want you to go either,” she blushed, light pink dusting her cheeks. “It's corny as hell, but I really just want to be close to you right now, and I don't know if it's from the robbery or the fight or after, but... please stay? For a little while?”

“I can do that,” he rolled off to the side to watch her organize her pillows, fluffing and slapping them into place. When she was settled, she motioned for him to come closer. “You sure you don't want me to-”

“If I fall asleep on you, you'll wake me up when you leave,” she pointed out reasonably. “But if you fall asleep on me, there's less of a chance, and I'm all about sleep right now.”

“Alright, but let me know if I get too heavy,” he warned, and she huffed as he settled against her. “I'm serious. You're so tiny.”

“Oh god, oh god, you're totally crushing my tiny ribcage right now,” she deadpanned, and he smiled into her stomach. “Seriously though, if it makes you feel better about my impending doom, you can lay next to me, but it's not that big a deal.”

“It is to me,” he answered quietly, and she fell silent at the look on his face. Closing her eyes, she leaned down and gave him a tender kiss before she sat back up. “Darce?”

“Go to sleep, Eliot,” she answered, turning off the light. “I'm here, and I'm safe.”

“Of course you are,” he replied gruffly. “You're with me.”

“Exactly.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if this seems a bit... off. This was my first time writing smut, which is a LOT harder than it looks. Like, holy crap I may never write it again and have a whole new level of respect for those who do, and do it well.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which there are explanations and actual cinnamon rolls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some absolute fluff, because my head hurts and fluff makes everyone happy.
> 
> Chapter theme song: [Christian Kane - Dusty Rose](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C9b2d62QzAs)

“Eliot, your coworker just scaled the side of the building to climb onto my fire escape,” Darcy called from her spot on the couch. She sipped from the mug in her hands and watched Parker pull something from her pocket. “Now she appears to be picking the lock on my window. From the outside. Eliot, wrangle your cat.”

“She's not my cat,” he grumbled, stalking across the room with a dishtowel thrown over his shoulder. “Parker, there are things called doors, you should try them once in a while.”

“Doors are for Hardison,” she climbed over the window ledge with a sniff. “Do I smell cinnamon rolls?”

“Yes, please, come in,” Darcy deadpanned, taking another sip of her coffee. “What's so important you had to break in?”

“You're not at work,” Parker brushed past Eliot and sat next to Darcy on the couch, peering at her face. “Why are you not at work?”

“Remember when I called you last night?” Darcy asked, huddling back into her cushions. “A tweaker tried to rob the diner right as I was leaving and Eliot was coming to pick me up. I may have, uh, asked some important questions regarding his affiliations-”

“She screamed about Hydra in the middle of the diner,” Eliot leaned against the arm of the couch, only to flinch when Darcy reached up and pinched the meat of his arm. “Hey!”

“I had to verify my suspicions,” Darcy argued, knocking her fist against Eliot's hip. “And thankfully he was just a tweaker, and then Eliot came in and did some kind of battle magic-”

“I grabbed his gun and put him in a hold, it's not magic,” he cut in, catching her hand when she went to pinch him again. “Darcy's boss was thankful for that, but apparently Frank doesn't run very deep background checks, if he runs them at all, and had no idea Darcy was connected to Thor, and by proxy, the Avengers.”

“He fired me this morning,” she sighed morosely into her coffee. “I get to keep the apron, at least, but he's mailing me my last check, says half the diner is terrified monsters are gonna attack just to eat me, the other half want the Avengers burned at the stake. So, y'know, bad for business all around.”

“Good, now you have to work for us,” Parker nodded, perking up as someone knocked on the door. “Must be Hardison. Just in time for cinnamon rolls.”

“I didn't make them for you two,” Eliot grumbled as he stood. “I'm not letting him in.”

“It's okay, I have a key.” Hardison opened the door with a flourish. “Do I smell cinnamon rolls?”

“ _Why do you have a key to my apartment?!”_

-o-

“Wait, you don't want me on the cons?” Darcy asked over her second cup of coffee, squinting at Parker. She twisted in her seat to look at Eliot as he climbed over the back of the couch, settling with his back against the arm and one leg stretched along the back of the couch. “Did you know about this?”

“Does anyone know what goes on in Parker's head?” He countered, tugging her back so she was cradled in his lap. “Stop moving so much, you're gonna knock over the plate.” Darcy conceded his point with a nod and leaned back against him like he was a pillow. Eliot arranged his arms around her waist, a plate with cinnamon rolls and sausage links in hand. “Eat.”

“So bossy,” she muttered, biting into a roll.

“Ey, yo, can we stop with the cute couple stuff already?” Hardison waved a folder in the air. “We've got actual important stuff to talk about.”

“Talk away,” Eliot shrugged, stealing a piece of Darcy's roll. “The sooner you're done, the sooner you're out.”

“It's true,” Darcy nodded, cuddling back into Eliot's hold. “My amazin'ly awesome boyfriend made me cinnamon rolls so I could wallow. Y'all are the ones who broke in-”

“ _I had a key.”_

“That you _stole-”_

“ _Anyway,”_ Parker interrupted, glaring at everyone. “Hardison, please show Darcy the reason why we're all here this morning.”

“Besides mooching off my cooking?” Eliot whispered into Darcy's ear, making her giggle.

“Eliot I swear to god I will take this out the door right now, right _now,”_ Hardison threatened, holding up the folder. “Do you feel me?”

“Oh my god _get on with it_!” Darcy rolled her eyes. “What's in the folder, Hardison?”

“Your new identity,” Hardison opened the folder and began laying out papers on the coffee table. “Work history, Social Security, family history, financial statements- oh, I took the liberty of fixing your car registration too, post dated through a few shell identities- you'll find that Willa Oakden is now the proud owner of a '89 Jeep Cherokee. It's up to you if you want to move or not- honestly, I'd recommend it for both of you, find another place to lay low for a bit until the sudden influx of 'darcy hydra new york' searches calm down.” Hardison slid a envelope towards Darcy, waiting until she opened it. “New ID cards, insurance, everything you'll need to make a life without making a life.”

“I... I don't get it.” She looked up at him with wet eyes, voice thick with tears. “You're sending me away?”

“Wait, no, what-” Hardison started waving his hands in denial while Eliot growled and wrapped himself tighter around her. “Eliot man, that's not what I'm doing-”

“Dammit, Hardison, just shut up for a minute,” he ordered before turning his attention back to Darcy. “Darcy, hey, look at me songbird. You're not going anywhere, okay? Hardison made you a cover, that's all. You're not going anywhere, okay? You're not leaving.”

“Just your identity is,” Hardison offered. “I had Darcy Lewis buying bus tickets to Omaha this morning, she was then seen at the junction in St. Louis heading south to Alabama instead. Willa Oakley, _however,_ is the new receptionist for Leverage, Inc, and has a very lovely benefits package including paid time off and dental.”

“So I can stay?” She looked between all of them with hope in her eyes. “I'm safe?”

“You can stay,” Parker confirmed, patting her on the hand. “You're going to use those skills of yours for good, Darcy. You can read people, you understand how to connect to them and get them to talk. You're going to handle potential clients, we'll handle everything else.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

-o-

“Wait, are you actually setting yourself up to buy that stupid toaster?”

“Nah, I already bought it. I'm just waiting for the right moment to give it to her.”

“Hardison, you can't propose to Parker with a fucking _toaster.”_

“Please. That's what the new climbing equipment is for.”

-o-

“Are you okay with this?” Eliot asked, elbow deep in soap suds. “You never asked us for this-”

“No, I didn't, but I'm starting to realize it's okay,” Darcy shrugged as she dried a mixing bowl. “None of you are particularly well-adjusted to people. It's like when a cat brings you a dead mouse because it thinks you're a terrible hunter and wants to feed you- I mean, the human's not gonna eat it, but they realize the cat is taking care of them in their own way. Y'all are used to doing things like this in your world, but I'm used to mine. It's gonna be bumpy, Eliot, but we're gonna be okay.” She put the bowl away and came to stand behind him, arms looped around his waist. “I promise we're gonna be okay.”

She squeezed until she felt the tension leave his body, then pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. “Now, since technically Willa has the day off from work, what do you want to do?”

“I could go for a drive,” he gave her a look over his shoulder. “Grab my guitar and my girl, go out into the country for the day. What do you think?”

“I think your girl is more than okay with that,” she grinned up at him, leaning up on her tip-toes to kiss his cheek. “I'll go pack some food and drinks, turkey sandwiches okay?”

“Throw in some sweet tea and you've got a deal.”

-o-

There was something about having his girl in his truck, wearing one of his shirts and singing along to the radio.

She had stolen a flannel when they went down to his apartment to get his guitar, throwing it on over her crop top and shorts. She'd given him a bright grin when he threatened to steal it back, like she knew he was bluffing. She'd kissed him, soft and tender, before she leaned back against the door frame.

“Come and take it, cowboy.”

They nearly didn't make it out of his apartment.

When they finally stumbled out, hair mussed and lips swollen, Darcy had insisted taking his truck was the best option. He humored her, opening the passenger door and helping her up into the cab like the gentleman he could be. She stole a kiss when he swung up into his seat, her hand braced on his knee as she leaned into him.

He was starting see the benefits of taking his truck.

But now, now they were traveling to a little place he knew of upstate. He'd gone hunting there a few times and knew there was a little cabin they could use if the weather turned sour.

He also knew there wasn't a soul around for miles, and he looked forward to seeing Darcy wearing nothing but sunlight and a smile as she stretched out on the blankets he'd put in the back.

They spent the drive talking, telling each other stories about their lives. Darcy told him about growing up a mechanic's kid outside Amarillo, he talked about Kentucky and what it was like working with horses and his hands. They kept it light and happy; Darcy was especially happy talking about her childhood pets, a cat named Scraggs and a dog named Scooter.

“I was actually thinking about getting a dog or a cat before this all went down,” she confessed shyly, her arms full of blankets as they unloaded the truck. “Not a super big one like Scooter used to be, but something to have when I came home. The cat was winning by a bit because I wouldn't have to walk it around my work schedule, but I really wanted a dog.”

“Could've asked me darlin', I'd have taken him out for you.” He hefted the picnic basket in one hand, his guitar case in the other. “It's been a while since I had a dog too. Might be nice to have one again.”

“You've done it now,” she laughed as she set the blankets down. She expertly shook one out, smoothing it over the grass before adding another. “I'm gonna drag out to all the shelters now and find the cutest ugliest dog ever.”

“'m not sharing a dog with you,” he protested. “Get your own dog.”

“But you said you'd walk him around my work schedule,” she batted her eyes at him, “so I want a dog that's not gonna bite you because you've got blue eyes or wear flannel or something. It's a valid concern.”

He shook his head, setting the basket down next to her. “You've got an imagination on you, girl.”

“Yeah well, sometimes all you need is a little imagination.” she winked. “And a dog.”

-o-

It really was the perfect day, Darcy though as she lounged on the blankets. Eliot was next to her with his guitar, the sun was shining, she was going to get a dog, and she was incredibly happy.

She couldn't remember the last time she was this happy, actually.

“You doin' okay, songbird?” Eliot asked as he tuned the strings. “You look like you're thinkin' hard about somethin'.”

“Nothin' serious,” she rolled onto her stomach and kicked her legs into the air. “I'm just really, really happy is all. Is it silly I can't remember the last time I was?”

He just gave her a smile, turning back to his guitar. “You know what you want me to sing?”

“Not off the top of my head, but something pretty,” she laid her head down on her arms, looking up at him from the blankets. “Something wistful, maybe?”

“Wistful, huh?” He strummed a few times, “I can do that.”

He started playing, chords light and haunting, and Darcy closed her eyes as he sang. It was sweet and lilting, and everything she needed to hear.

When he was done, notes fading into the sunlight, she raised herself enough to climb into his lap. He put his guitar to the side with a raised brow, asking without words, and she sighed into his neck.

“Remember a few days ago, when I told you that you were dangerous, but not how you think?”

“Kinda hard to forget it,” he stroked hair away from her face, tucking it behind her ear. “Why?”

“I was right. You're an incredibly dangerous man, Eliot Spencer, and you're gonna make me fall in love with you, and there's no way to stop it.”

-o-

He was right.

She was absolutely beautiful wearing nothing but sunlight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was actually supposed to be published on Saturday, because I was going to be away from my computer for a few days and wanted to leave you lovelies something cute and fluffy to have over the weekend. And instead I posted it as a draft, so that's completely on me and I'm sorry for being a boob.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy gets closure and Eliot gets paranoid.
> 
> They also get a dog.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the beautiful comments and encouragement. <3

Working at Leverage was an experience, as Darcy discovered on her second official day when Parker _woke her up_ by eating a bowl of crushed ice cream cones over her bed.

The wedding dress was a bit more perplexing, but she figured that was just Parker.

Darcy blinked up at her for a bit before she shrugged. “Did you bring coffee?”

“No, but you should take some down to Eliot. He's had some difficulty with his jeans today.”

“...Parker, I know you're technically my boss, but please tell me you didn't _steal my boyfriend's pants_ as  as a gift for me.”

-o-

“She's still not my cat.”

“Nah you're right, at this point I'm pretty sure she's mine, unless she gives you all of my bras one day.”

-o-

They started her off easy, with a series of video interviews with potential clients they had already vetted. Her task, Hardison explained, was to go over and see why they chose the ones they did, and why they turned down the rest.

It was pretty fun, actually, using her talents for something other than slinging hash browns and burgers. She got to analyze people, catching twitches and changes in tone. She ferreted out liars and actors, fellow conmen and even a few cops desperate for a break.

She loved every second of it.

“You're a natural,” Parker said when they brought in lunch. “You only missed a few cues, but you'll learn quickly enough. We'll move you onto paper files after eating, see if you're as good with words as you are with voices.”

“I didn't study political science for nothin', you know,” Darcy deliberately thickened her drawl, watching as Eliot smirked and Hardison laughed. “Hit me with your best shot.”

There were a few bumps in the road in the beginning; Eliot was so used to flirting to sell his characters that it was a bit hard for Darcy to take. The first time it went a bit beyond innocent flirting, she had slapped the comm down on the table and left the office for a few hours.

She came back to find a delivery man with a pizza and a picture of an angry cat attacking a long-haired stick figure on the inside of the lid.

She cut it out and hung it in her office, grease stains non-withstanding.

It took a week before he was able to corner her and actually talk about what happened. He apologized, she listened, and at the end of it, she only said one thing.

“You get one warning, cowboy,” she warned. “I told you there were gonna be bumps, but I ain't gonna get played like my daddy was. You're either in or out, but goddammit at least have the respect to tell me to my face.”

-o-

Things were okay, _they_ were okay, until Parker got hurt on a job. She recovered, but Hardison locked himself away for a few days after, only emerging with a vicious look and shaking hands. He gave Eliot a slip of paper and walked away without speaking. Darcy turned to ask Eliot what was going on, but he was already out the door.

He didn't come home that night. Darcy waited for him in his apartment, wrapped in one of his shirts and pacing back and forth across the floor.

He came home three days later, just as dawn broke across the sky. He took one look at her in his bed, her hair mussed and eyes heavy from sleep, and left again without a single word.

He stumbled in after three in the morning, knuckles bruised and dried blood on his lips, stinking of smoke and cheap whiskey and sweat in all the wrong ways. She cleaned his face and wrapped his hands, her own trembling with all the things she couldn't say. He buried his face in her hair when they went to bed, tremors wracking his body until she turned and pulled him closer.

She woke up to a bouquet of sunflowers and daisies, bound with an ivy vine, and a very poorly drawn picture of-

“Is that a rat?”

“It's a _dog.”_

“Huh. I can kinda see it if I... yeah, no, it just looks like a giant rat, I'm sorry.”

“Do you want to go get a dog or not?”

“Depends.”

“On what?”

“On if you're gonna talk to me.”

His name was Mush. Part German shepherd, part hound, big and huge and made of love and drool. He spent his first night home stretched across their laps, occasionally snuggling closer when Eliot's voice broke or Darcy cried. He went with them into the office the next day, all big eyes and heart-breaking whines until he got to cuddle with Eliot on the couch.

“Not a word,” he threatened Hardison, Mush's head on his chest. “Not _one_ word.”

“Please. If your reputation suffers you'll just punch it back into shape.”

Parker tried to teach him how to “fetch” wallets, but gave up when all he brought her was sticks.

-o-

The problem with castles, Darcy discovered, is that they could crumble. The higher the towers, the higher the fall.

Her fall came six months later.

She had taken Mush for his daily post-lunch walk; Eliot normally went with her but stayed behind claiming paperwork. She figured it was something to do with a case or a surprise- Parker had been suspiciously hanging around her more in the past few days, either as distraction or as Parker.

She could never be sure with Parker.

No one could.

Raised voices alerted her that it wasn't a regular case. Eliot and Hardison argued, but never to the point they were at now.

“We can't take this case, man,” Eliot argued as she walked closer, Mush at her side.. “Do you want-”

“I know what I want, man, but I also know we can't let this go.” Hardison's voice was firm, but not unkind. “She's tougher than you give her credit for, man. She can handle this.”

“Handle what?” Darcy opened the door and let Mush go through first. He bounded up to Eliot for his usual enthusiastic greeting. Eliot didn't respond, just watched Darcy with something like worry on his face. “Eliot?”

“This case that came in... I have certain things flagged in our system as a extra layer of security. They don't get through to you if there's something especially hinky or dangerous- for any of us- about them. Things like connections to specific organizations, past jobs, that kind of thing.” Hardison took a deep breath. “Darcy, this case... it's gonna take us to Stark Industries.”

She froze, Mush's leash still in her hands. “What?”

“Our clients came to us because word has spread up and down the East Coast about our team, how we always get results. And they came to use because, well, they think we're the only ones who can get them what they want.” Parker explained from the couch, where she hung halfway upside from the side. “The boys are fighting. Eliot is worried about you. Hardison thinks you can handle it. I think the whole thing is a mess and we should do it.”

“We're not doing it.” Eliot stated, his arms crossed across his chest. “There's no way we can beat their security and you know it, Hardison.”

“He does,” Darcy tried to calm her breathing. “That's why he wants me in on this one, isn't it Hardison? You need me to walk straight in.”

-o-

“So on a scale of one to full southern, what are we looking at?”

“I stopped being able to understand Darcy about three minutes ago, but Eliot's still fairly clear.” Hardison handed Parker a bottle of water with a nod. “Mush has been sitting outside the door for the past ten, whining and scratching but neither is letting up on the other enough to let him in. I think they're both worried the other is gonna book it and not come back.”

“How silly,” Parker commented, unfolding from the couch. “Excuse me, I'm gonna go let the therapy dog in.”

“He's not a therapy dog, he's just a dog. A big, hairy dog.”

“May as well be a therapy dog with those two.”

-o-

“Okay, so, you need me to walk into SI with the proof of what, exactly?” Darcy asked, eyes red. Eliot stood behind her, not speaking or looking at the screen.

Parker was going to have to keep her eye on him to make sure he didn't blow this one.

“Right, so, the breakdown is this.” Hardison spun in his chair and clicked his remote. “Small town in Texas gets a SI research branch. Everything is good at first- local jobs, more kids going on to higher education, more money in the community- it's white picket fences and apple pie all around. Except about two years ago, people started getting sick. Rare cancers, severe allergies with no family history, asthma- whole bunch of stuff that shouldn't have happened, but it is now. SI claims it's not them, but their head of research has been checked out by a few investigators- nothing serious, but there have been enough inconsistencies that it should have raised a red flag or six.”

“The fact is that nothings been done, ever.” Parker took over, zooming in on a picture of a short, reedy looking man. “Dr. Jonas Fentman, PhDs in both biochemistry and pharmaceutical research. When SI employs the best, they employ the best.” She clicked over to another picture, a woman with sharp cheekbones and dark eyes. “Matilda “Matty” Bennett, head of-”

“No,” Darcy stood, face bone white. “That's not Matilda Bennett, because Matilda Bennett is a fiction.”

“What?” Hardison spun in his chair, typing furiously. “How do you-”

“Because I know those eyes.” Darcy turned to face them, still deathly pale, her fingers dug into the back of the chair. “Give me all the information you have in hard copy. I'm going in today.”

“Darcy, we need-”

“Today, Hardison.” She cut him off, her voice hard and sharp. “Parker, you keep Eliot out of trouble. Eliot... don't follow me.”

“Like hell-”

“If you follow me, it won't just be my cover story that's blown,” she shook her head, taking a step back. “If I'm blown, and I will be, y'all will have time to clear out and get away from the fallout. Lay low for a bit, maybe pull a job somewhere in the Midwest or something. This isn't gonna be pretty.”

“What's got you so spooked?” Hardison asked, but Darcy was already out the door, Mush trotting after her with a whine. “What does she know about Matty Bennett?”

“If I had to take a guess, I'd say it's her mother,” Eliot replied, staring at the face on the screen.

-o-

“You have five minutes to get me a meeting with someone upstairs regarding identity fraud, chemical pollution, and public corruption or I'm contacting Christine Everhart.”

Darcy had walked into the lobby of Avengers Tower three minutes ago and announced herself to the receptionist. She then took a seat and waited, keeping track of time on her wristwatch, a pretty little silver thing she found in a thrift store outside Las Cruces.

With thirty seconds left, a security guard stepped forward and motioned for her to follow him to a bank of elevators. She took a deep breath and stood; she had fought to leave her earbud behind on the grounds that they would find it on the scans.

Hardison was offended.

Eliot was furious.

She left her phone behind as well, purchasing a burner on the way in. Parker had a second with the instructions to toss it after Darcy texted her the results.

It was painfully childish and low-tech after working with Leverage for so long, but Darcy did not trust Stark further than she could throw him.

“Miss,” the guard stepped off the elevator and motioned for her to follow him down a hallway. “This way, please.”

“Who am I meeting with?” she asked coolly, but her heart was racing. “Mid-level management? A paper pusher looking for a step up?”

“I prefer former CEO, billionaire playboy philanthropist, but whatever charges your devices.” A male voice called from the open conference room door.

“Ah.” Darcy swallowed her nerves, channeling Parker. “Stark.”

-o-

“I don't like this.” Eliot paced back and forth, Mush watching him from the couch. “She should have backup. She's got no support in there!”

“Eliot, man, I hate to admit it, but she was right.” Hardison groaned from his place on the couch. “They would have spotted any tech immediately- they probably already scanned her phone and got all the information they could off of it. It's why she's insisted on using her real ID for this- if they traced back to us... I mean, I'm good, CIA level good, but I'm not good enough to beat Tony Stark's AI. That thing is what hackers dream of achieving – they probably already have her face mapped out from every camera in a hundred block radius.”

“I don't like it” Eliot growled. “She-”

“She would tell you to grow the hell up,” Parker snapped. “Now shut up and let her do her thing. Sometimes, honesty is the best policy, and I trust her, Eliot. You should too.”

“She's not Sophie!” he burst out. “She's not Tara, hell, she's not even Hardison-”

“Hey!”

“I do trust her, Parker, but I don't know if she can pull this off and get out safe.”

“She will,” Parker laid a hand on his shoulder. “She has to.”

-o-

“So, security tells me you have proof of fraud, pollution, and corruption that pertains to us how?”

“Your facility located outside Sanford, Texas.” Darcy laid her files on the table, spreading them out evenly. “Besides complaints regarding the health of the townsfolk, and investigations into your head of research, nothing has come of it but people are still getting sick.”

“And this is my concern why?”

“Because your division head isn't Matilda Bennett, of Boston, Massachusetts. Her name is Kimberly Reynolds, and she is the reason my mother was convicted to twenty years in federal prison for grand larceny, identity fraud, and assault.” Darcy slid the picture of her forward, keeping her eyes on Stark's face. “She is a criminal, Mr. Stark, and because of her lies innocent people are dying.”

“You sure this isn't just some grand scheme of revenge for your old mom, Lewis?” Stark asked with a grin. “I know all about you- Thor and Jane were a little upset when you up and left, you see, and asked me to keep an eye out for you. Apparently his buddy Heimdall refused, said you didn't want it-”

“I didn't,” Darcy cut in. “And I still don't. I'm here because we were approached by three different families, Mr. Stark, all of whom are dealing with terminally ill family members or friends and have no recourse available because Reynolds is keeping the higher ups in the dark. I don't know why, or how, but since she managed to fool your company into accepting her incompetence, it's your company's responsibility to clean it up.”

Darcy pushed back her chair and stood with grace. “If you don't have someone down in Sanford by tomorrow, Mr. Stark, I will know, and I will be taking all of this to Ms. Everhart. She's been itching to take your company down a peg or five since before you became a suit of tin, I'm sure she'd love to hear about this.”

“And what do you and your 'we' get out of this, Lewis?” Stark gave her a calculating look. “What's the game?”

“The game, Mr. Stark, is that I came here of my own free will, essentially destroying the life I've tried to build away from all of you, in order to maintain peace. She ruined my parents, sure, but now she's ruining other lives as well. I won't let that stand, and I hope you won't either.” Darcy started to walk towards the door. “If you continue to search for me after this, or give my location to Jane or Thor, we will disappear, but not before leaking this story to the press. And you will never hear of us again, or find us, because if there's one thing we're good at, Stark, it's disappearing. There's a reason I only have this, after all,” she waved her cheap phone at him. “Remember, twenty four hours, or we go public and then disappear.”

“I don't take kindly to threats,” he informed her, still in his seat. “Or ultimatums.”

“What a coincidence,” Darcy smiled, all teeth and fury. “Neither do we.”

-o-

PENNYROYAL

 

SYCAMORE, Parker typed back, walking back into the main office.

 

SYCAMORE.

ANGREC, CYPRESS, NASTURTIUM.

 

“Right, we're leaving,” Parker announced. “Hardison, pack it up. Eliot, grab Mush and whatever you need. Darcy's out, but she's under surveillance. We need to lay low until she shakes them off. Could take a while. I'm not sure who it is- she thinks it's one of three possibilities.”

“How did you-”

“Code words,” Parker held up the burner. “Go. She knows where to meet us.”

-o-

“You know, you're not as good as you'd like people to think you are,” she spoke conversationally, turning to face the Black Widow. “Unless you were taking pity on my poor civilian senses, in which case- don't. It's insulting and my friends would be offended on my behalf.”

“Stark figured I was the safest option.” The Widow shrugged, seating herself at Darcy's table. “Was he wrong?”

“You mean the most effective option,” Darcy corrected, taking a sip from her tea. “Stark sent you because he figured out that my file was a waste of time. Wanted to get a closer look at my team because I refused to play in his sandbox.”

“Essentially.” The Widow flagged down a passing waiter with one finger. “Water with lemon slices on the side, please.”

“You know I'm not going back to them.” Darcy pointed out. “You're wasting your time- I could have just as easily given us all up, except we don't want to work for Stark. We sort of pride ourselves on our independence.”

“Ah yes, your team. Anything you'd like to say before I really start digging?” Widow raised a sculpted brow at her. “This is child's play so far.”

“I'm sure,” Darcy replied, her voice dry. “Why are you really here? This doesn't concern the Avengers, unless Stark told Thor and Thor threw a fit because I just walked into the Tower and out again.”

“You and your... team, were right,” Widow tilted her head to the side. “After a few minutes of Stark digging into it, it unraveled. Police and a SI legal team are on their way now, along with relief workers and aid for the town. Apparently Reynolds has ties to AIM. Any idea where she got them?”

“Outside of a courtroom, I haven't seen her or my mother since I was seven years old.” Darcy set her tea down on the table, hands wrapped around the mug. “I've got nothing for you, Ms. Romanova.”

“Other than setting us on the trail of a conspiracy to commit corporate sabotage?”

“Our clients wanted them taken down,” Darcy said with a smirk. “Whatever happens next is up to the full power of the justice system and SI's lawyers. Not us. We got what we wanted, we're done.”

The Widow studied her in silence for a minute, head cocked to the side, eyes narrowed slightly and body completely still. “So what was it?” she asked neutrally, “This desire to play hero? You say it wasn't revenge, but wasn't out of a desire to play white knight. You displayed some skills while with Foster, but nothing to this level.”

“There are no knights in this world, not anymore.” Darcy shook her head. “And to think, _you_ questioning the morality of _our_ actions. I've read the file dump, Ms. Romanoff. I know what you and your friends have done in the name of countries and kings. We're not trying to make a name or a statement. We just want to help _people.”_

The Widow smiled, savagery wrapped in silk, and Darcy shuddered. “So come work for us. We could use your talents.”

“We don't work for Stark, or for anyone like him,” Darcy pushed her seat back. “We aren't guns for hire or special consultants for his ego trip. We don't agree with his policies or tactics. We're not a company he can buy or bully- we own ourselves, plain and simple. He pushes and we'll disappear for a while. But we'll be back, Ms. Romanova, because we work for people, not heroes _ **.**_ We genuinely _care,_ which is what makes us different than Tony Stark's- or your- guilty conscience.” Darcy threw a few dollars on the table. “Enjoy your water.”

CYPRESS, she texted as she walked away. BELLADONNA.

 

BELLADONNA, Parker sent back. CHESTNUT.

 

She really hated hiding.

-o-

Thor caught up with her in Iowa, touching down in a cornfield as she was walking along the road. “Darcy!”

“Hey, big guy,” she sighed, setting her bag on the ground. “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to ensure you were well,” he studied her, the grit on her boots, the weariness in her face. “You are not,” he surmised, “And you will not accept help.”

“Nope, I won't.” Darcy agreed, sitting on her bag. She'd picked up a few things from Lost & Found boxes, namely sweaters and a few pairs of jeans. The rest she had bought on her way west; she didn't like working bars again, but they paid cash and generally treated her okay.

There was still no word from her team, though, which meant Parker had gotten him away and into hiding.

At least one thing was going well.

“You left so suddenly upon my return to your world, yet you offered Jane an empty explanation.” He sat next to her on the ground, gaze heavy and intense. “I would hear the truth.”

“Fine,” Darcy stretched out her legs with a groan. “I was sick of it, Thor. The hiding, the security, being treated as baggage by everyone, including Jane, just because I was there when you touched down. It was a freak chance, dude, and it's ruled my life since. I couldn't graduate, I couldn't work in my field, I couldn't do anything because of SHIELD and Hydra and I was so done with it all. I always came third or fourth or fifth, and I tried, Thor, I really did, but I couldn't keep up with it anymore, so I left.” Darcy rolled her eyes. “I doubt Jane even really noticed or cared, but I'm touched you tried to check up on me. Now please, if you and your super friends could leave me alone for the rest of my life, it'd be appreciated.”

“You have no regrets? Truly?” he rumbled, and Darcy shrugged at him. 

“Truly,” she replied, “Honestly, my existence was a bit raw and ragged for a while, but I found people who care about me, Thor. I've got friends and a guy who would burn the world for me- I even have a dog! And I'm stayin' as far away from all of them right now as I possibly can, because I don't want Tony fuckin' Stark to get a hold of them because his ego was insulted, or for the Widow to play with them because our existence conflicts with her own fucked up moral code.”

“You care for them.”

“More than I cared for you or Jane, because my people now? They let me care about them, and they care back.” Darcy stretched her arms overhead, feeling her back pop and crack. “And that's more than I've had since my daddy died, so again, I'm askin' you to leave me alone. Tell ol' Heimdall to stop lookin' down, tell Stark to stop tracin' my face through all the cameras he can hack, tell Widow to stop scroungin' in the underworld. We can retire from everythin', right now if we wanted to, and none of you'd every find us again if we wanted.”

“But you don't,” Thor stood, offering his hand to help Darcy up. “You wish to continue on as you were.”

“Helpin' honest people who got cheated is what we do, Thor.” Darcy let him pull her to her feet. “What y'all do- it's miles above what we want to do, what we can do- we're better off workin' with folks and things we can handle. Y'all take on the aliens and monsters and whatever, we'll take on the wolves in human skin.”

“You are a strong woman, Darcy Lewis of Midgard,” Thor's voice was soft but steady. “I wish I could have known you better, perhaps called you a true friend.”

“If wishes were fishes, big guy,” she patted him on the shoulder. “Now get on home to Jane, tell her to eat somethin', and that I'm happy. I'm really, truly happy.”

-o-

Three months later, Darcy blew into a small Texas town in the cab of a eighteen-wheeler, singing along to Johnny and June. The trucker who picked her up in Arkansas gave her a wave and a twenty, telling her to get some dinner on him.

She waved Rodney goodbye until his truck was lost in the heat waves off the asphalt, then turned and stumbled into town, a beat up suitcase at her side. There was a small little sandwich shop on the side of the road, and she gratefully sank into a seat.

“A water, please, and a pay phone if you've got one,” she requested, throat dry and cracked. “I need to call a ride.”

Thirty minutes and a turkey sandwich later, a silver Chevy pickup pulled up to the shop. Darcy was telling her teenage waitress stories of her travels; the night sky in Montana, the dust storms in Oklahoma and the rain in Washington.

The heavy tread of boots on the linoleum caught her attention. Grinning, she swiveled in her chair to face the door.

“Hey there cowboy, miss me?”

-o-

“You ain't ever doin' anythin' like that again,” he growled into her ear that night, both of them laying sweaty and exhausted in the bed of his pickup. “You ain' ever leavin' like that again.”

“I ain' ever leavin' like that again,” she parroted sleepily. “El, 'm sorry, I had to make sure-”

“You ain' leavin' again,” he repeated, holding her tighter. “Even if I gotta retire and live in some city and never take another job, I'll do it, Darcy, I will, just don't ever do that again.”

“What do I gotta do to prove it to you, cowboy?” She yawned into his shoulder. “Already promised you, how am I gonna show you?”

-o-

He bought her a ring that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pennyroyal- Flee away  
> Sycamore- Curiousity  
> Angrec- Royalty (code for Thor)  
> Cypress- Death, Mourning, Despair (code for Widow)  
> Nasturtium- Patriotism (code for Captain)  
> Belladonna- Silence  
> Chesnut- Do me justice (Parker's way of saying to do her proud)
> 
>  
> 
> That's all, folks. :)


End file.
